Painter Of The Wind - Of Ink And Song 3
by ObsGryph
Summary: The journeys of Yunbok and Jeonghyang
1. Chapter 1

**Cheoseo 1787 (7th)**

The rooster strutted slowly around its domain, eyeing the flock pecking away in their enclosed corner of the courtyard. It fluffed its feathers, throwing out its chest, standing even straighter to show off its majesty, confident that it alone held sway over its kingdom. Footsteps ran up and its pride promptly lay in ruins as the flock leapt in swift response to the shower of grain that flew through the air. Its comb bloomed even redder in displeasure at the disruption and the rooster glared at the usurper. It squawked in outrage as a large downpour of grain was heaped on it. Flapping and shaking itself thoroughly to get rid of all the grain, it crowed its defiance even as the boy laughed, empty bowl in his hands.

"P'adoa, you can tease that fellow on another day, come over here with the bowl," said Yunbok at the vegetable plot, a small pile of cucumbers at his feet. "Bring these in to omoni," he said, as he stacked them into the bowl P'ado held out.

"Aboji, are we going to the market later?" the boy asked anxiously.

"Yes, after we have finished with rites here and visit your omoni, go on," Yunbok waved him away before turning back to picking the best samples from the vegetable plot. "Watch out!" he called when he saw a foot coming down on a gourd. Too late. "Aigoo, master, you're trampling rather than picking," he said to the older man who lifted his foot curiously. Pieces of squashed gourd clung limply to the sole of his jipsin as the other half dropped off.

"That's one of P'ado's endeavors, isn't it?" Suk-kwon scrapped the crushed vegetable from the sole on the ground, picking up the surviving half. "It looks as small as he is," he laughed, waving the remains of the unfortunate gourd about.

"One with better results, I must say," Yunbok, grinned, nodding towards the fence where an untidy row of small gourds hung valiantly from among their larger cousins before bending down to gather up a few, checking that they were presentable. "He's looking forward to making his offering."

"Well, then, where shall I hide the evidence of my crime?" Suk-kwon said jovially, looking about before throwing the remaining gourd in the direction of the fowls which made quick work of the unexpected morsel just as P'ado exited the kitchen. His eyes lit up when he saw Yunbok adding the small gourds to the basket of muskmelons.

"Aboji, one is missing?" he said after squatting down and doing a count of the gourds in the basket and on the fence.

"Are you sure?" Suk-kwon asked, lips twitching.

"I know how many I planted, I count them everyday. One is missing, ajoshi," P'ado searched the rows of gourds carefully as the adults eyed each other. Yunbok frowned at Suk-kwon, silently mouthing words he did want to say aloud.

"Ah..erm, I'm afraid I accidentally crushed one just now, P'adoa" Suk-kwon admitted, his lips twitching his agreement with Yunbok. The boy had been very dedicated to raising his litle patch of vegetables that it seemed crass to fib or spin a tale over a missing fruit.

"Where is it now?" the boy looked at the rows of vegetables.

"I gave it to the ducks." Suk-kwon wondered if the boy was going to erupt into a temper for there was a deep frown on his face.

"Then you must recompense me," Pa'do declared as Yunbok regarded him curiously. When did he learn the word?

"Aigoo! All right then, what would you like?"

"A staff like aboji's," P'ado said seriously.

"And what are you going to do with it?" Suk-kwon stifled his grin, looking equally solemn.

"Learn to fight with it, like aboji," P'ado announced, almost adult-like as he gazed steadily back at Suk-kwon. Yunbok turned away at the sight, pretending to examine the vegetables.

"He learned the staff for defense, not to pick fights with other people," corrected Suk-kwon, deliberately making that distinction.

"I know, I also want to learn to defend myself," the boy declared and broke his little adult stance by grabbing Suk-kwon's sleeve. "Ajoshi, I really want to learn, like aboji learned from you," he tugged pleadingly.

"All right, but I am very strict and you have to follow exactly what I say."

"I promise!" P'ado said with delight before he grabbed the basket of maskmelons and gourds and bore it away to the kitchen.

"Not a word of objection?" Suk-kwon asked curiously as Yunbok tested the last few watermelons of the summer, all of which felt the same to him as he tried to pick the heaviest.

"What is there to disagree with? He'll be better at it if he starts young," said Yunbok as he weigh the watermelon he had chosen. "It will occupy him when he's restless. This one's good, I think," he handed it to Suk-kwon who checked the stalk and nodded.

"Did you teach him that word 'recompense'?"

"No. I don't know where...," Yunbok paused as a thought struck him. Wasn't he talking something about that recently to Jeong-hyang.

_"How can I refuse old master Han? Hyangya, be reasonable," he pulled at her sleeve entreatingly. _

_"You made it sound like I am a harridan. That's even worse," she huffed._

_"That's not what I meant,' he tried to turn her back as she looked away. "We're really not late. Aigoo, you want me to beg?"_

_"All right then, how will you recompense me?" she turned back to him, grinning teasingly when he frowned at her._

_A sound broke them apart and they turned to see P'ado standing wide-eyed behind them at the porch._

_"I can't sleep," was all he said when he saw them looking at him._

"Well?" Suk-kwon wondered at the abashed look on Yunbok's face. What had he been up to?

"He probably overheard us one night when we were talking out by the porch," Yunbok turned back to his task, avoiding Suk-kwon's curious gaze. "It's going to be late as it is, we'd better hurry."

Working steadily up and down the rows of vegetables and with P'ado running to and fro, the best of each type of fruit and vegetables were picked and taken to the kitchen. When all was done, they shifted to the kitchen to further sort the pickings. The rice cakes and sweets were swiftly carried out to the low table set at the daecheong while more care was taken with the soups. The kitchen was a bustle of activity, to-ing and fro-ing. P'ado was especially pleased to see his gourds piled neatly in a bowl. The spirits and ancestors would be pleased with his efforts, he was sure. Most of the food was already set out: fruits, miljeonbyeong, wine, neatly stacked yakgwa, gangjeong and tteok. His stomach rumbled at the sight but he resisted the temptation to touch. A shuffle of footsteps brought him around. Time for the ritual.

The candles were lit, cups of wine were individually dedicated, deep bows were taken before the rice bowl was uncovered and everyone turned away to sit at the porch while the incorporeal partake of the offerings. P'ado could not resist asking questions about the staff. When would it be ready, what would it be made of, how long was it going to be. Jeong-hyang was puzzled that Suk-kwon was going to give the boy lessons in martial arts. She had thought the older man had indicated that the boy should be older before giving him any lessions. Why did he change his mind? It could wait, she only wanted to rest after cooking from since dawn. Yunbok smiled in sympathy at her as he massaged her hands, his back turned to the other two as he listened to Suk-kwon's replies.

It was hard on her. Most of the household chores fell to her ever since Ae-young married Chang-sun earlier a few years ago so he and Suk-kwon came to an arrangement to take turns at cleaning to alleviate her burdens. Her hands were like his; rough and chapped. How often he had wished they were able to lift their living conditions to that of Jungin. There would be servants to do the cleaning and she could take her ease. She nudged in the side and he looked up to meet her gaze of reprove. As always, she could tell what he was thinking; harboring fancies which would not see the light of day. He smiled wryly as he grasped her hands to him.

_Heart of my heart, there's nothing I can hide from you, is there?_

Gentle humor glinted in her eyes as she touched his face. After a while, deeming that appropriate time had passed, they got up and went to the table, exchanging the bowl of soup for sungnyung. Another intermittent of waiting and the table was shifted to the kitchen where some of the wine, meat and fruit were shared out. P'ado was disappointed he could but take a little sip of the wine, thinking there was barely anything to taste as he rolled his tongue in his mouth. The rest of the cooked food was placed on a large soban that was placed at the daecheong. The byeongpung was folded away in a corner and the candles put out. Then came the part he liked most of all; plenty of tasty food to be had and everyone having their meals together.

The cleanup after the meal went faster with additional hands to help in the kitchen. Once they were done, Yunbok had P'ado washed his face and hands and sent him out to wait at the courtyard while he helped Jeong-hyang prepare the chanhap. Suk-kwon went to the back of the house to bring down and pack the scythes. Bored, P'ado decided to see what the rooster was up to. It eyed him suspiciously as he came up to the enclosure. Grinning, he clucked softly at it as it looked at him, unconvinced he was part of the flock. Whereupon, he squatted down, pretending to peck at the soil, wagging his arms and shuffling around. After a moment, not liking the mockery, the rooster attempted to chase away the imposter and bounced off the fence. Undeterred, it flapped its wings and made it over the fence after a couple of rushes. Quick as a flash, P'ado leaped to his feet and led the rooster on a merry chase around the courtyard, ducking past clothes hung out on the lines, books spread along the porch, flying past Jeong-hyang as she exited the kitchen with the chanhap.

"Aigoo! At it again!" Yunbok said grinning as he slide closed the doors of the daecheong. "He never seems to tire of it."

"He never learns, does he?" observed Suk-kwon, watching the boy's nimble skips to avoid the rooster's beak and claws.

"What, P'ado?"

"That fellow of a coxcomb!"

"P'adoya," Jeong-hyang called, shaking her head at his antics but smiling at the same time.

"Right then," said Yunbok, darting forward to catch hold of the rooster as P'ado led it past him. "Back to your kingdom," he said to the squawking indignant red-faced rooster, depositing it back in the enclosure.

"I outbeat him, again!" P'ado whooped, full of boundless energy after the lively exercise, skipping up to Jeong-hyang as she beckoned.

"Come along," she said, bending down to wipe the sweat off his face as he laughed up at her, reaching to take hold of her sleeve as they set off.

They went down to the creek, crossed over and up the trail into the hills. The day was cool which made the trek to the grave easier. Grasses and weeds had sprouted over the mound so Yunbok and Suk-kwon set to work trimming them down and effecting repairs. About them and around the hill, families from the villages were also tidying up the graves. Once the grave mound was tidied, offerings were set out, everyone took their bows and the customary ritual was carried out.

P'ado fingered the carved words of the tombstone. Ever since he had come to understand why he had another omoni, he had tried to bring up some visual memory of Min-soo but it was vague as it had always been. All that was left of her was the pendant, memories of songs and warmth. Where was his father, he wondered, for Min-soo could only spare whatever strength that remained to her to tell Yunbok and Jeong-hyang his intended name and bequeathed the pendant. Was he alive or dead?

Omoni, do you know where he is? Why did he leave us? Where did he go?

"P'ado."

He looked up to see Yunbok standing a little way down the trail, Suk-kwon and Jeong-hyang moving away in the distance.

"We have to get to the baekjungjang so don't be too long."

"Yes, aboji." Till Baengno, omoni, I'll be back then. P'ado patted the tombstone and ran after to catch up to Yunbok. Further down, they joined groups of other people who had finished their rituals at the gravesites and they clotted into a relatively large crowd that streamed into the south-east. Most of the crowd made stops at the waterfalls for a wash but the threesome and the boy continued on. Before they reached the baekjungjang, sounds of the Jungwon in full swing could be heard before the noisy and bustling market came into full view.

Music from the nongak nearly drowned out the murmuring roar from the mass of people. Those nearer the nongak danced and sang to the beat, giving rein to their desire to enjoy themselves in the pre-harvest thanksgiving after the intense farm work, rains and summer heat of the previous months. With prayers offered for a plentiful harvest, there was hope and anticipation.

They skirted the crowd as best they, making for the market pavillion where Jeong-hyang met up with Ae-young as arranged. Several get-togethers were also occurring here as the pavilion was often used as the banbogi between mothers and married daughters. Greetings were exchanged when they spotted Ae-young with Chang-sun, his brothers and their wives. The women hailed one another cheerfully before they left together for the swing area. Left to their own, the others made their way to watch the myriad of activities that were going on.

Ssireum matches among the representatives from the surrounding villages drew the most number of men who shouted encouragements or busied themselves in placing their bets as fast as possible. On the outskirts of this stellar attraction, elderly men sat at the jumak, smoking their pipes and exchanging news and views as they watched the janggi matches and played chess all at once. Now and then, a firm "Jangiya!" could be heard, followed by "Guniya!". Occasional murmurs of advice was handed out to the younger players, which was mostly taken readily in the desire to effect a victory. Those unable to get into the jumak gathered outside with their own game board of gonu drawn on the ground while most of the boys congregated with other adults to watch the performances put up by the namsadangpae. P'ado paid special attention to the acrobatics, wishing he could emulate the youngsters who went through the performances with such ease.

At the corner outside the jumak, bets were being taken and recorded for the ongoing weaving contest among the participating villages. The result of which would only be known in Chuseok. Yunbok declined to place a bet though Suk-kwon and the Joon brothers opted to try their luck. He could not see the point of losing money on a result that could swing either way. Looking at the number of bets was no help either, it was even for both teams. Their bets placed, they made their way to the ssireum matches, leaving P'ado at the namsadangpae performance with the promise that he would not wander off elsewhere. Yunbok wondered how Jeong-hyang was doing. Given a chance, he would rather be at the swing than watched men heaved at each other.

The subject of his thoughts was enjoying herself immensely, listening to the chatter of the women as they sat near the stream, sipping boksunga-hwachae, snacking on miljeonbyeong and tteok they had brought to share with one another, watching the young girls and women taking turns on the geunettwigi, trying to outdo one another in the competition. Laughter and shrieks of excitement filled the air. Ae-young kept a close watch on her five year old daughter as she ran around with the other girls, with a ear opened to the gossips and gripes bandied about. The women kept their complaints light as this was a day of celebration and did not even try to offer well-meaning advice to Jeong-hyang.

This pleased Ae-young for as far as she knew, her friend whom she regarded more as a sister, did not seem distress that she had not borne a child and was simply content with P'ado. Besides, it had already been so many years, what other remedies could they come up with? Sometimes though, she felt Jeong-hyang's forbearance with the more snide remarks from those insensitive few, admirable. But then laundry days were often when they could air their grievances and a few could not resist picking on others. She tried to be as kindly as Jeong-hyang but it could be too much some times and she would rally to her friend's defense with the others.

She perked up as the talk turned to story-telling. This was one of the benefits where Jeong-hyang's efforts in educating the girls were truly appreciated for now, the older women were able to enjoy the tales read or related to them by their daughters as they went about their chores during the day and evenings. A amiable discussion sprang up on the tale of Kuunmong, as everyone pitched in with their opinions. The hours flew by. It was late afternoon when the gathering broke up. As arranged, they met the others at the Baekjung-jang and proceeded to browse among the stalls.

It was noisy. Vendors shouted out their wares at the top of their voices in order to be heard over the murmurings of the browsing crowd. The the sight of so many people was bliss to the vendors who hoped to make a good profit. The air was thick with tobacco smoke mixed with the sudued aromas of food. Jeong-hyang moved off with P'ado to check over the stalls selling miscellanous goods while Yunbok wandered around with Suk-kwon.

They stopped at a stall selling bows and arrows. Suk-kwon perusing the arrows keenly, examining each sample. Yunbok was fascinated to see a gakgung hung up behind the stall owner. Such bows were usually for military officers.

"That's a family bow," said the stall owner, noticing his gaze.

"Ah, I was wondering," Yun-bok nodded, desiring to try the bow but did not think the stall owner would be receptive to the idea. It was slightly too large for him and it was unlikely he would be able to pull it. Still, he wished there was a chance to see it in action.

"From Jindo?" Suk-kwon held out an arrow tipped with brown goose feathers and flashed a plaque to the stall owner. "I'll take these," he said, picking up a tied bundle of the same product when the stall owner nodded and proceeded to bargain. Yunbok felt his sleeve tugged and looked down to see P'ado grinnng up at him, pointing towards Jeong-hyang who was looking in his direction, peering over the heads of the crowd. When she saw she had his attention, she beckoned. As he made his way to her, he realized she intended to buy shoes.

"I have...," he began as she held out a pair of jingsin.

"Which is wearing down as we speak," she thrust out the shoes at him insistently until he took them, feeling the slick oily surface before bending to try them on. "I don't know what is it with you, you never seem to notice you are almost going about barefooted."

"I'm not blind, it's just that there isn't any need to get new ones when I can still wear the shoes," he said mildly, handing the shoes back, "these are fine. New ones for P'ado too?" he looked over the shoes on display. "Don't forget yourself while you're at it, he glanced down at her feet of which he could see nothing since they were hidden by her chima.

"I've already gotten mine," she waved a pair of brownish black jingsin with hobnails on the sole before picking up a smaller pair of shoes and bending down to P'ado. "He's growing," the boy beamed at that statement and took the shoes from her to try on. "He'll have to wear slightly bigger shoes."

"Wouldn't they just fall off, omoni?" he watched as she pressed the tip of the shoe to feel his toes.

"Certainly not so big they would fall off," she searched for another pair which was more satisfactory. After paying for their purchase, they moved away to other stalls: woodware comprising jewellery boxes and chests, fans and ornaments, ramie and cotton, chae, mats and bamboo blinds, farming tools, ritual vessels, brasswares and so on. Yunbok's load of items grew as Jeong-hyang added a couple of chae and bamboo blinds. At such times, he felt he was merely a convenient mule for her to offload her purchases. If it went on, they would need a bigger mule. He looked around when he realized Suk-kwon was not with them and shrugged mentally. Probably busy with his own list of things to buy.

At that moment, Suk-kwon was at the peddlars' corner, perusing locks, checking out those that looked well-made. With the lock of the warehouse completely worn away by rust, there was an urgent need for a replacement. Was he planning to try every single one, the lock peddlar eyed Suk-kwon, for he had been standing there for some time, fiddling and trying every lock with the keys. He hoped to make a sale so he waited patiently, calling out his wares now and then. A woman stopped to look, there was no space for her to stand nearer so she stood a little distance behind and peered at the locks. Really, would this customer just choose one and move on?

"How much for this?" Suk-kwon held out the lock he had chosen.

"Eight nyang," the lock peddlar said without batting an eye.

"For this?" Suk-kwon said incredulously. "Three!"

"Really, sir, that lock is made by a skilled metalsmith whose work is endorsed. You can see the mark at the bottom. Too, I carry these all the way from Hapcheon, surely eight is not too much to ask?" the peddlar infused as much plaintiveness as subtly as he could.

"Truly? " Suk-kwon pretended to be impressed as he looked down at the etched mark at the bottom of the lock. No one that he knew. "I sympathise but still, can you gaurantee this lock is as pristine as the day it was made? For all I know, it is already rusting away from your very long journey here from Hapcheon." The woman behind hid her grin as she listened.

"I stand by the quality of my wares, sir but as a gesture of good faith, seven!" knowing he may stand to lose, the pedlar quickly dropped the idea of evoking sympathy and headed straight into bargaining.

"Three, as a gesture of my faith in your wares." Suk-kwon said with a note of finality.

"Sir, the quality of this cooked juk is beyond compare!" came the protest.

"How is it even possible to assume just from the sound of nyang?" cupping a hand to his ear, Suk-kwon pretended to listen hard.

"Six nyang," the peddlar said reluctantly, abandoning the idea of dickering with this glib fellow.

"Three," Suk-kwon returned.

"Six is the best I can come to," the peddlar eyed the woman who was showing signs of impatience.

"Three," Suk-kwon refused to budge. The peddlar gave up at that, afraid he would lose the potential customer behind this stubborn customer.

"Fine, three it is!" he held out his hand for the coins and dumped them into the pouch tied around his middle, not at all displeased since he still made a profit, minimal as it was.

Smiling at the success of his ploy, Suk-kwon turned to go, making sure not to knock into the woman waiting behind him. She glanced at him and stopped short, eyes widening in disbelief and turned quickly as he strode away. Surely she was mistaken, it was not him. But he did look very familiar. As she stared after him, a voice seemed to shout in her ears.

_'Why is it not you?! Why her? Curses on you for your meddling!_

The lock peddlar watched in bewilderment and disappointment when the woman walked away. Winding carefully through the crowd, she scrutinized that back carefully but could not decide since most people looked alike viewed from behind. It had been years since she last saw him, he was a young man then. He stopped at a few stalls, looking over the wares before moving on. She watched at a safe distance as a boy ran up to him, waving a stick of gwapyeon that threatened to fly off at the vigorous whirl it was given, pulling him over to join a young couple.

As if sensing he was being watched, he looked around as she hastily turned away and pretended to look at the cotton cloth at the nearby textile stall. After a moment, she looked up. They were gone. Quickly, she scrutinized the crowd for long moments. Had she lost them? There was no sign of them. Was she mistaken? She sighed. But no, there was no mistake. If only she had gone up closer to verify his identity. If she ran into him again, she would have to be more meticulous.

As the afternoon drew to a close, the ultimate winner of the ssireum match was declared amidst much cheering, the loudest from those who had bet on the victor. Excitement rose as gongs sounded and announcements shouted aloud that the juldarigi would begin soon. The ropes for the juldarigi were brought out to the large clearing a distance away from the jangsi. Loud and bawdy were the comments as the ropes were joined and opposing teams gathered at their ends of the ropes. When all was ready, the gong was struck and shouts of encouragement rose as participants tugged on the dongjul as the leaders of the teams watched keenly, waving the flags they held to direct the teams. Back and forth the ropes went as everyone pitched in to have a go at it. It was a foregone conclusion which team would be the winner but everyone wanted to ensure there was temperate struggle. Nothing should be won that easily!

Even the children had a go at the juldarigi. P'ado could not really grasp the dongjul properly, it was too thick for him. Nevertheless, he gave it his best heave before his place was taken by another. Back and forth the teams went. Teasing insults were shouted. Dusk was falling when roars filled the air as the eastern team holding the designated "female end" slowly hauled most of the rope over the midpoint. The gong sounded, signalling the end of the contest.

Knives were brought out and lengths of the huge ropes were cut and handed to the vilage chiefs to be wound around the stones of the entrances of their villages. The rest were hacked into pieces to be given out to everyone who eagerly reached out for a share. Suk-kwon brandished the pieces he received in triumph as he returned to Yunbok and Jeong-hyang. Good fortune and a good harvest was ensured! Tired but happy, the little group joined the villagers from their hamlet and made their way home. Most of the jangsi was already closed except the jumak and inns which travellers, merchants and peddlars were having their meals and totalling up their earnings.

Torches bobbed along the trail as night fell, happy chatters filled the air as the festivities of the day was discussed. The sight of the village entrance was greeted with much enthusiasm. Their share of the rope from the juldarigi, carried by eager volunteers was wound around the sotdae, thus ensuring good fortune for the village. The task completed, the villagers dispersed as each family made for home. As they walked back to the paper mill, Suk-kwon showed the others his lock purchase, grinning all the while at the good price he had gotten for it for it was certainly well made and expounded at length of how he went about it.

His master could be like a little boy sometimes, Yunbok felt as he listened. Part of it had to be his living by himself. For the umpteenth time, he wondered what had happened to Suk-kwon's family. The older man had been very close mouthed about it when he asked. It was a pity he would be alone in his old age. But no, they were his family now, he corrected himself, his master was not alone. At such times, he felt sad that Suk-kwon seemed to have no one. Years ago, he had thought he would be spending the rest of his life alone in his old age but fate had been kind.

The purchases were stored once they were back home. The bamboo blinds would only be put up at the end of the month to replace the old when it was time to repaper the doors and windows. Until then, Jeong-hyang would have plenty of time to make the maeduep to decorate it. As she vanished into the kitchen to set out the evening meal, a voice called outside. On looking out, Yunbok saw it was Yoo Jung, haraboji Yoo's son and went to greet him, surprised that he was making a visit at this time. Was there something urgent that had to be done? Yoo Jung put his anxieties to rest. There was a matter he wished to discuss with Yun-bok.

Would it be all right if he made a formal call on Yunbok the next day? He would come just after the noon meal. After receiving a favorable reply, Yoo Jung took his leave as Yunbok wondered what was it he wanted. It was unusual to receive such a formal request. What could it be? Well, he would find out tomorrow. After checking that P'ado was with Suk-kwon at the warehouse, he went to the kitchen to give Jeong-hyang a helping hand. She usually chased him out most of the time but he thought she would not today since they got back home so late. She gave him a look that spoke volumes when he appeared but said nothing as he took up a knife to slice the cucumbers. There were only side dishes to prepare fortunately. At her soft murmured indications of what she wanted, he cut up the desired vegetables and after a brief discussion, cooked pajeon which was P'ado's favourite.

Dinner was a leisurely and quiet affair as everyone was feeling tired. Washing up took moments and the baths after, more of a sleepy routine. After ensuring his face was completely dry, Yunbok finished up the second last task of the day.

"Was P'ado trying to inveigle lessons from master Suk-kwon today?" she said as Yunbok handed the hair brushes back to her as they sat in the back room.

"Not trying, his lessons would start soon," Yunbok ducked his head below her arms as she braided her hair to look into the mirror himself, tapping his upper lip. "I hate this, I want to take this off!"

"No, you can't," she pushed him away so she could check her hair. "How did he manage that?"

"Look, I'll say I have some strange illness that prevented me from growing a beard," he wheedled.

"We've been through this before," she sighed. It was not that she did not empathize with his irritation at the need for facial hair but his lack of it would cause some tongues to wag even more.

"A fire, I got too close to a fire, it was burnt off," he fingered the false moustache irritably. "Arrghhh!" he threw himself down on his bedding.

"You only need to bear with it for a few years then perhaps you could arrange an "accident" to get it off," she said without turning around. "It's just as well you are so dark, that moustache does not stand out as much as it would if you were as pale as I am."

"You are not that pale actually, just lightly tan," he mused as he looked at her. "You looked very good, healthy and robust." Turning over, he stared at the ceiling. "As for the lessons. Master Park accidentally crushed one of his gourds that had fallen to the ground so to recompense him, he got an agreement to begin learning," he eyed her expectantly, for she would remember.

"Recom...," she turned around at that. "He got that word from me," she said, chagrin as Yunbok nodded solemnly. "I think we'll have to be more careful with him around."

"True...surely you are not going to sew," he protested when she closed the chawgyong and turned to the bamboo basket. He got to his knees and reached out to take her hand. "It's really late, forget it, go to bed."

"But..."

"Enough, Hyangya," he pulled her away from the basket and leaned down to blow out the oil lamp. "It's been a busy day, get some rest!"

"How busy is it when I was just sitting around half a day, listening, chatting, eating and drinking?" she remarked sardonically as she settled down in her bedding.

"All the exercises are equally debilitating. By the way, Yoo Jung came to see me earlier," he added as she was about to retort to his initial statement. "He was very formal about it."

"Oh my," she racked her mind, trying to come up with some plausible guesses. "When does he want to see you?"

"After the noon meal," he considered for a moment. "The day after, more work in the fields before harvesting. Maybe he wants me to help out with more fields?"

"By asking to see you formally? What are you, a retired minister?" A pause before they burst into laughter.

"That is a silly notion, isn't it?" he chuckled. "Maybe it has something to do with the village."

"Or something to do with someone in this family. You are the head of this household, no?" He sat up at that suggestion.

"Can it be you?" That seemed unlikely to him so he dismissed it instantly. "It can't be P'ado."

"If it's neither of us, then maybe it has something to do with haraboji Yoo's family."

"I hope it has nothing to do with kidnap marriage," he laid back down, hoping it was not so as he could not think of any role that would suit him.

"Unlikely, unless they need someone to go where a bigger man cannot, in which case, you will come in handy."

"Ha, I will refuse to do it. I am not the only one who is physically smaller in the village. Besides, there are no widowers or any widows anywhere near here . It's not likely to be that," he rubbed an itchy spot on his upper lip and fingered the moustache which he had lengthened to the beginnings of a beard, wishing he could tear it off. Although he had started the beginnings of it more than a year ago, it was not as irritable as it was at present. Most of it was due to the ends that tend to tickle on a hot day. He would have to do some trimming on the morrow.

"Stop fiddling with it," a hand came out of the darkness to lightly tap his hand in admonishment.

"Yes, yes, omma ...ow," he yelped when she pulled at the moustache. "Stop that! You'll be the death of me."

* * *

In a small room of a jumak in the deserted jangsi, a group of three, a girl, a young and an older man sat in silence, absorbed in their individual tasks. The girl counted the pile of coins in the bojagi before her, putting them in stacks as she murmured softly. When all the coins had been counted and stacked, she looked to the young man beside her who nodded as he finished recording in the small book he held. Taking out a small bunch of the coin strings beside her, she passed several to the young man and they began to loop up every stack. The older man who seemed to be asleep opened his eyes and knocked out the ash in the pipe he was smoking into a small bowl. Without a word, he laid it aside and got up, pulling on a durumagi and a gat. At the door, he paused.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he said without turning his head and left the room.

"Where do you think we will be a few days from now?" said the girl, without pausing in her task.

"Who knows?" the young man said casually as it was of no concern to him. "As long as it is not up north to spend the winter," he shuddered as he recalled the time they were in Hamheung years ago. "I'd rather we spend it here in the south. Better," he nudged her gently with his shoulder, "if we go to Busan. Imagine the variety of exotic trinkets to buy!"

"That's a wonderful dream, oppa," she laughed, tying up the last stack. "Which might not come as true as the cold wind blowing now."

"Where are you going?" he said as she pushed the bundled stacks before her to him and got up.

"The sight of so much nyang is food for the eyes but not for the body!" she grinned before going out of the room as he regarded the money ruefully, realising that his stomach was rumbling. Turning to the bandaji, he removed another bojagi, spread it out and placed two of the stacks on it before tying it up and depositing it into the clothes chest. The rest of the money, he dumped into a small chest to be handed out to the rest of the group on the morrow. Dusting himself off, he settled down to wait for his dinner, bringing out his pipe and tobacco pouch.

Outside, the man gazed at the sky. It was an hour into first watch. The courtyard was was dimly lit by a tungnong hung at the porch of the tavern. Looking about him, he made his way to the gates and took the trail leading north-west. The luminous moon casting just enough light for him to see as he walked along the trail. As he passed through the forest, the canopy of the trees allowed glimmers of the sky to shine through. Although it was chilly, he did not feel it as his pace picked up. The trail eventually joined the main road heading west and he joined the few travellers and horses making their way into the town. The soldiers at the gates looked him over as he passed but did not stop him.

Once past the gates, he took his time, strolling along as he took in his surroundings. The face of every young woman he passed was sighted carefully. Most of them would be the maids from the wealthier households, out on errands from their mistresses. He did not think he would find what he was looking for among them but viewed each face subtly to avoid rousing outrage. He paused by a shop to ask for directions and continued on, turning into another street as instructed and turned again. Without any expression on his face, he made his way to the gates hung with a quartet of large red tungnong. As he stepped past the gates, he was immediately greeted by a bevy of gisaeng and a horde of questions; did he have an appointment? What kind of entertainment would he like? Scent of flowers? Accompaniment of cups? A feast of music and dance?

His eyes flicked quickly at their faces; young and younger. A pang hit him when he saw these fresh young painted faces. His gaze alighted on a gisaeng who appeared to be in her late twenties, hanging a little at the back, not pressing forward as her sisters were doing. Something seemed to pass between them as his eyes met hers and he nodded to her, pushing through the crowd to take her arm. What was that slight hint of shadow behind her eyes? The smile she cast at him seemed genuine but he knew better.

Would he prefer a room, the verandah or the pavilion? On hearing he wanted a room, she led him further into the gibang. As they passed various occupied rooms with opened doors, his gaze alighted once more on the faces of the women he could see. Outside a room, he halted for a moment, gazing within with interest before continuing on his way. It was rare to see such a sight and it reminded him of his secondary task. Deep in thought as he was, he did not forget to look into every opened room he passed. So preoccupied was he that he nearly knocked down a gisaeng who had just exited a room. Hastily, he put out a hand to steady her and apologised for his blunder, glancing into the room as he moved around her; just a couple of richly dressed men listening to a couple of gisaeng as one of them sang to the music of the gayageum.

Iseul closed the doors of the room and looked after the man curiously. It was rare to hear apologies from patrons. Much less from one who nearly knocked her down and who should be angry or lascivious. Who was entertaining him? She took a step aside to look at the back of the gisaeng leading the man. It looked like Hyeja. She was in luck then, for her customer was surely a gentleman of some virtue. Smiling, she made her way to her next task.

An attentive maid rushed up just as Hyeja opened the door of a small room, bearing a soban with wine, a cup and small dishes. This was placed before the poryo as he sat down and the maid exited the room, closing the doors behind her. He closed his eyes as she poured out the wine, thinking of the faces he had seen. There was a rustle of cloth as she sat closer.

"It must be a tiring day, please, take some refreshments, sir," she said and her brows twitched when he removed his gat and laid down on the poryo. Did he intend to start straight away?

"I'm new to this town. Tell me, are there any interesting incidents of note?" he closed his eyes, recalling the faces he saw as best as he could.

"Is there any particular subject you are looking for?" she peered at him. Did he come here seeking information instead of pleasure? It would be the first time a customer asked for news rather than satisfaction of her.

"Not really. I just like to keep myself apprise of current events of the places I go to," he opened his eyes to look at her.

"As would a place at a tavern would get you, sir. Why here?"

"You are right," he sat up and reached for the cup of wine. "But it is a fact gisaeng hear more of the truth than anyone else."

"Some of which are less suitable and less wise to air," she refilled the cup.

"I do not ask for those. Only a clearer breath than the fog I would get out there," he took a sip. "Please."

She eyed him keenly but thought over the gossips in circulation and repeated them, wondering what he was seeking in the pretty much mundane development of merchant so and so's attempt to sire an heir, the fluctuating prices of some commodities in the constant merchandising contest, the arrest of certain merchants found to be operating without licenses, the capture of robbers that had been plaguing the northen region of Uiryeong, such an result infused confidence in the newly appointed magistrate, rumors of certain strange religious practices. As she repeated what she heard, she examined him closely; a man of middle years, tall and spare, deep lines around his eyes. He had the rugged tan look of one who worked outdoors.

"Are there many gisaeng who play the gayageum here?" he said when she finished and waited expectantly.

"Do you wish for music? We have gayegeum players." The switch in topic did not bemuse her, rather, she was expecting it.

"Anyone with exceptional skill?" he stared into the cup.

"My sisters are skilled but if you ask if any would stand aloft, then no."

"What are their names?" he set down the cup and looked at her when she did not answer. "No matter," he sighed and poured wine into the second cup. "My thanks for your trouble," he handed the cup to her and laid back down on the poryo.

"Do you want dinner, sir?" she said after taking a sip, placing the cup back on the table. "Sir?" Had he fallen asleep? What a strange man this one was, she got to her knees to see if he was sleeping and leaned over him. His sudden movement in drawing her down startled her.

"No," he muttered as she made to disrobe him. "I only wish quiet company for the night. No more than that."

A living chukpuin? Amusement lifted her lips and then died away as she lifted her head a little. Perhaps he was weary from his journey and missing his wife. Ah, he looked a little less stressed as she glanced at his face. It was strange, this, as she laid her head back on his chest. Listening to the heart of another. She wondered if she would be able to get away later for his arms weighed heavy across her back. But did it matter? This was by far the easiest and most peaceful night she ever had. What was his name? She hoped to find out in the morning as she drifted away.

* * *

Korean Words

_chwagyong - mirror vanity_

_chukpuin - bamboo wife _

_Baekjung-jang - special market_

_banbogi - halfway meetings_

_boksunga-hwachae - peach punch_

_bojagi - a piece of cloth to wrap or cover things_

_dongjul - side rope_

_geunettwigi - swing_

_jingsin - leather shoes_

_juldarigi - tug-of-war_

_Jungwon - thanksgiving for approaching crop harvest_

_maeduep - Korean decorative knots_

_miljeonbyeong - wheat crepes_

_namsadangpae - troupe pf male entertainners_

_poryo - pillow_


	2. Chapter 2

**Cheoseo 1787 (8th)**

When the last student had placed the washed and dried inkstone in the classroom, Yunbok dismissed the class. The boys bowed before filing out quietly. Once they reached the courtyard, shouts floated to the sky as several of the young boys separated from the main group to run off home while the rest proceeded to the fields. P'ado waited patiently as Yunbok piled and tied up the books and carried them away once he was done. Taking a broom, Yunbok cleaned up the rooms before closing the windows and doors. After the seodang was locked up, he made his way home, glancing over the fields as he passed them. The scarecrows were already up, flapping in the cool wind as lines of men worked in the fields, singing as they removed quick growing weeds. In another several more days, the rice would ripen and ready for harvest.

The girls were already gone when he reached home though he was surprised to see Ae-young in the kitchen when he looked in from the porch. But of course, he had forgotten that the women were to come that day to help season and preserve the eggplants, cucumbers and melons. Suk-kwon was at the vegetable garden, shaving the gourds as P'ado and Changmi, Ae-young's daughter, looked on. P'ado was attempting to do the same with a small knife to the gourds he had planted as he watched the older man carefully. The soban was already in the daecheong when he stepped in and the door of the back room opened.

"Better hurry before he comes," Jeong-hyang said as she closed the back room door and vanished into the kitchen. At that reminder, he could not help but feel a little trepidation. In the years since he had settled down in the village, never before had anyone requested to visit. That it was important was clear. What would it be about? The question went round and round in his head as he checked that P'ado had stacked the books properly on top of the chaekchang. Opening the mungap, he kept away the papers and stationery from the seodang before he started in on his snack. By the time he finished, there was still no sign of Yoo Jung so he pulled out the seoan to mark up the latest batch of work from the students and soon became absorbed in his task. He did not even notice when Jeong-hyang collected the soban.

A while later he heard Suk-kwon calling to him and went out to the porch. Yoo Jung was standing in the courtyard, talking to P'ado. Most curious, they seemed to be chatting very well, what were they talking about? That it was definitey an interview of import was evident in that Yoo Jung was dressed impeccably. It looked like he put on his best clothes. After an exchange of greetings, Yunbok invited Yoo Jung into the house where upon Jeong-hyang placed a soban between them once they had seated themselves. She had used their best celadon bowls, Yunbok realized as he poured out the hyangseolgo.

Taking up his own bowl, he took a sip as Yoo Jung picked up his own. The conversation started slowly with the discussion on the weather, the recent pre-harvest thanksgiving celebration, the anticipation for a bounty that year. Yoo Jung made it a point to mention how the contraption that Yunbok had come up with had eased the burden and labor in building and mending projects. The talk meandered to the degree of the King issued to all the officials in the kingdom to report on the corruptions in their provinces and districts the previous year. It was an admirable effort but much depended on the honesty of the officials in their reports. Still, there was much confidence and faith among the people that the King would look to their needs.

Yunbok wondered when Yoo Jung would touch on the subject of his visit when he began to talk about the general contentment and welfare of the people, especially in their village. All were thriving, especially more so when their children were receiving the best in all ways. He looked at Yunbok significantly and then moved on to touch lightly on the generations of Yoo as Yunbok demured diffidently to that compliment. To improve future prospects, they beleved they had to make further alliances outside of their clan. Yunbok's eyes widened when he suddenly realized where Yoo Jung was heading. His suspicion borne fruit with Yoo Jung's next statement.

"Mr Seo, with the elders' approval, I propose an alliance between our families."

Yunbok fought to prevent his jaw from dropping at that proposal and keep his face impassive. It was difficult for his calm had been thrown into disarray at this shocking overture that appeared out of the blue. He said the first thing that came to mind as he frantcially tried to sort out his thoughts. P'ado was not of his flesh and blood, as an adopted son, he would take up the family name of his birth father once he came of age. His saju would be a problem too. Too, there would be a problem with P'ado's saju. He said as much to Yoo Jung.

"We are aware of that but it is a fact you have adopted him and he is a part of your family. It matters not what name he will bear later. That he is brought up by you and thus will learn from you is. How can he not prosper beneath the sun and waters of a gunja?" Yoo Jung said thoughtfully as he thought of the boy's responses. "Concerning the saju, it is best if we take it from the time he was adopted."

That they would overlook P'ado's saju was unprecedented. Yoo Jung nearly smiled at Yunbok's amazement. It had always been the belief among the clan that Yunbok was from a Yangban or Jungin family from Hanseong. His speech, manners and his cultivated bearing marked him out when he first arrived at the village nine years ago. That he was so altruistic was certainly a great surprise but welcomed by the villagers, especially when he opened the seodang for free for their children. His arrival had been both a blessing and benefit to all.

Although he had not been forthcoming about his background, it was doubtful he would have a questionable past. Most speculated that he was likely a younger son who had either left on his own or was tossed out after a quarrel with his family. Everyone with marriageable daughters had tried to get him interested to no avail until his betrothed appeared. That she was a former gisaeng was hardly surprising. Such tales were aplenty. There, that was the reason he left, everyone said. Love for the gisaeng must have caused the family fall out. And with his wife contributing similarly, they were more than an ideal integral part of the village community. Thus, when Yoo Jung first broached the subject of an alliance to his father, the elder Yoo had been very receptive.

Yunbok was stuck in a quagmire. How was he to answer? While it was customary to betroth children as early as possible, he did not want to offend Yoo Jung by rejecting too abruptly but neither did he want to tie P'ado to a stranger. In a way, he wanted the boy to have a choice when he grew up. Akin to what old master Han had allowed Young-joon to have although he did put pressure on him to marry five years ago. Delay was the only ploy he could use at the moment while he try to come up with a solution.

"It is an honor to receive such an offer," Yunbok said after a while, aware that Yoo Jung was waiting patiently for his reply. "Please allow a few day's grace to consider."

"Indeed, Mr Seo," Yoo Jung nodded understandingly. "As such, I will take my leave. I look forward to a favourable reply. Thank you for your hospitality."

A marriage proposal. Yunbok wanted to laugh hysterically as he watched Yoo Jung stride away down the path to the village. Of all the things he had ever considered, it had never crossed his mind at all that anyone would want P'ado as a son-in-law. Somehow or other, he had thought the villagers would view the boy as a capricious factor, given his unknown background although he knew no one was treating him as such.

"Aboji! What did ajoshi Yoo want?" P'ado ran up to him the moment Yoo Jung disappeared from view.

"Well," Yunbok wondered if he should fob the boy off and decided against it. "Ajoshi Yoo wants to marry his daughter to you." he sat down at the porch of Suk-kwon's house as P'ado followed likewise, eyes never leaving Yunbok.

"Marry?" the boy frowned, momentarily confused.

"That's living and spending your life with someone," Yunbok said, knowing the boy did not quite grasp it even if he understood vaguely what marriage was about.

"Like aboji and omoni?"

"Yes, like that. What do you think?"

"Ah..," P'ado frowned harder. "Now? Do I get to live with her now?"

"You are not going to live with her now, of course. When you're older."

"But I see her many times in the village. Do I have to spend my life with her when I can see her?" P'ado was puzzled. "Isn't that funny?"

"That's how it is done, P'adoya. It's a marriage arranged by the families."

"And what did you say?" a voice broke in and they looked up to see Suk-kwon standing at the porch with Changmi, who was holding a small gourd with flowers carved into it.

"Ah, ajoshi, that's one of my gourds!" P'ado jumped up and exclaimed in dismay when he saw the gourd.

"Surely you can spare a gourd for the little one here, she is your guest," Suk-kwon said cajolingly. P'ado stopped short at that.

"Of course I can," he said generously and then a thought struck him. "Aboji, I know Changmi, I see her in the village too, surely I can marry her too?"

Yunbok wanted to laugh but kept a straight face. "Ah, er, yes certainly but I'm not sure her parents would want to marry her to you."

"Why not? What's wrong with me?" P'ado looked down at himself.

"Yes, why not?" Suk-kwon added, grinning at the corner Yunbok had painted himself into.

"There's nothing wrong with you. It depends on their own plans, not what you want." Ha! His master thought he was trapped, did he? Yunbok twitched his eyebrows at Suk-kwon in triumph.

"But..," in his mind, P'ado thought that his wishes ought to be important too but could not find the words to say it.

"It is just a suggestion, it doesn't mean you have to marry someone if you don't want to," Yunbok tousled the boy's hair affectionately. "It's not going to happen anytime soon, I will explain it when you are older."

"If you say so, aboji," P'ado was willing to drop the subject, feeling that he did not quite understand it. With Changmi in tow, he returned home and brought out his tops. Although it was not really the ideal setting for tops, the boy knew the girl was fascinated with them so he began spinning them in the courtyard as she watched with delight and chased one after another as they spun around.

"Are you going to agree to it?" Suk-kwon said as he sat with Yunbok, watching the children.

"No, but I'm going to have to think of an excuse that will not offend the Yoos." Yunbok absentmindedly rubbed his false moustache as he turned various options over as he tried to figure out the best reply to give Yoo Jung.

"That will be difficult."

"Indeed. Frankly, I am surprised that they are so willing to consider him."

"It's not him, it's you and Jeong-hyang."

"I was afraid of that," Yunbok said glumly.

"Can a burning fire be hidden in the cold of night?" Suk-kwon chided. "How could they not appreciate it? It is because of this that they did not muddy your background."

"My background? What do they know of my background? I didn't tell them anything," Yunbok said with some alarm.

"Exactly. You told them nothing. Yyou kept yourself aloof in the first four years which only leave them plenty of room to speculate about you," Suk-kwon was surprised that Yunbok seemed oblivious to the gossips. "You stood out like a high bred horse among the nags. Your accent is clearly not local. Anyone can hear the difference, it has a distinct class that speaks of your upbringing. Your speech and the way you carried yourself also give you away; you do not belong among the sangmin. Everything point to the possibility of you being a Yangban and not of the bought variety either. Even if you are Jungin, still, you are a rank above."

"So," Yunbok hesitated.

"So, whether you realized it or not, your standing in the eyes of the villagers is rather high. That is why there were many attempts to kindle your interest in the girls, you were the ideal bachelor up for grabs," Suk-kwon laughed when Yunbok made a face at that reminder. "Your activities were a worrying point," the older man sobered. "This village is relatively close to the sarim clans of this district. You could have attracted their attention. It's just as well the the two official scholars we have here on the outskirts are singular offshoots. Seonbi."

"You should have said something."

"How could I?" the older man grasped Yunbok's shoulder affectionately. "I only wish to guide, not bind."

"Gyeongsang has always been the southerners' enclave but even so, what is a lowly sonbaenim of worth?" said Yunbok as he thought of the political parties.

"That is so," Suk-kwon nodded. "Uiryeong had been a place of contention. It's no different from any other towns that became strategical points when war happens but this place was chosen because of the relatively reduced sarim presence."

"Why did they never claim this territory? This is relatively arable land since it's close to Uiryeong and the waterways." This was a puzzle that occasionally niggled at Yunbok through the years.

"It was not so more than a hundred years ago. The Imjin Waeran disrupted settlements. There used to be a large concentration of sarim clans here," Suk-kwon waved to the south.

"Used to be," Yunbok said quietly as he looked to the east, understanding now why the sarim clans had chosen to settle elsewhere. A gasa came to mind and he recited quietly.

_A hundred ten thousand of Island Barbarians_  
_One morning suddenly attacked;_  
_And myriad of surprised souls_  
_Were dispatched by shining swords._  
_The bones piled on the plain_  
_Were higher than the mountains._  
_The great cities and the main villages_  
_Became the lairs of jackals and of tigers._  
_Cold the royal carriage hastened_  
_enroute to Shu._  
_So thick the dust and smoke,_  
_Dim was the hue of the sun._

They sat in somber silence, as they reflected on the images evoked by the gasa.

"The slaughter," Suk-kwon said as he shook his head, splintering the melancholy stillness. "Most of the southern sarim clans were forced to flee in the initial invasion. A number of those who stayed perish or were taken away into slavery," he sighed. "to live in a foreign land, never to return. Intellectuals, artisans, we lost so many. Homes and lands destroyed. The recovery was slow, you saw how it is with Gyongbokgung." Yunbok nodded. "They never returned. The clans were badly decimated or too few remained or they simply chose to stay where they had settled. With farming lands denuded, famine, lost of population, especially the sangmin, everyone staked out what they could. Survival was more important. It became worst during Hyeongjong's reign. As far as I know, the agrarian prospect of this territory was dismal and laid unclaimed until homeless peasants and former nobi moved in."

"The lands here were unfavorable because of the terrain but it was chosen precisely because of it," Yunbok saw that Suk-kwon concurred with his assessment. "I wondered who was the one who led the settlers here? I don't think the village elders ever spoke of any particular person."

"Perhaps, someone made a suggestion and the rest simply took up on it for want of a better idea," Suk-kwon doubted they would ever know. "Still, we are doing better now because of their efforts," he smiled, desiring to dispel the gloomy air. "It is fortunate this is not a Yangban village. The conflicts between lineages would be adversed and might even draw you in. Whatever quarrels and competitions that lurked within are relatively simple. That's the beauty of a sangmin village."

"Not only that, commoners cooperate more fully with one another," pointed out Yunbok.

"That is true. An alliance with you, irregardless of P'ado's background, meant a possiblity of plausible relations with the upper class. I'm sure that's one of the possibilties the Yoos are thinking of."

"Oh no, it's not that cut and dried," Yunbok shook his head, certain Suk-kwon was testing him. "Sangmin have little regard for the Yangban, why would the Yoos bother in that direction? Their ambitions are closer to their hearts. Even though there are no Yangban lineages, still, the commoners vied with one another for the same purpose on a much smaller scale. Dominance. The Yoo are dominent. Next are the Son and so on. You said my standing is high, by allying themselves with me, they raised their stakes in the village."

"Well done," laughed Suk-kwon. "You will reject the proposal?"

"Yes, P'ado will make his own decision when he grows up. I don't want to take that away from him."

"Who knows he wouldn't end up marrying Changmi?" Suk-kwon turned to watch P'ado. The boy was trying to teach the girl how to spin a top, unsuccessfully as it was since she was still too young to coordinate the required movements properly. "It's just as well you accepted none of the proposals. Imagine the black faces and quarrels that would ensue if you had expressed an interest!"

Yunbok gave Suk-kwon an irritated look at that ludicrous statement but said nothing as he mulled over the excuses he could come up with to reject the Yoos. No matter what reason he could come up with, the Yoos would be vastly disappointed. Given the trouble that Yoo Jung had gone to see him on the matter, they were probably not expecting a rejection. After all, why should he rebuff them? The conversation with his master had given him an idea though. Perhaps Jeong-hyang could come up with a better idea.

"Who is this?" he looked up when Suk-kwon muttered under his breath, to see a woman walking hesitatingly up the path to the paper mill. She paused, looking around the workyard before spotting them sitting at the porch. As she approached, Yunbok was surprised Suk-kwon did not get up to attend to the visitor as he usually would and glanced over to see a frown on his master's face. What was he thinking about? As the woman came nearer, he got to his feet, put on his shoes and moved to greet her as she entered the courtyard and stopped just short of the porch.

"Annyong haseyo," he bowed in greeting. What was ailing his master? Sitting like a statue carved from stone.

"Annyong haseyo," she said, bowing in return, hands clasped before her. Her eyes flicked to Suk-kwon. Yes, it was him. She was sure of it when she spotted him at the juldarigi yesterday.

"How may I help you, ajumonim?" Yunbok asked politely, wondering if this woman knew his master. Her thunderstruck expression was telling. He guessed she was forty or so in years. Did she live in Uiryeong or one of the villages farther away? Perhaps she was one of Jeong-hyang's customers? Odd however, she didn't look like a maid.

"I...," she glanced at Suk-kwon uncertainly. Now that they were face to face, she was more than convinced he was who she thought him to be. But why was he not saying anything? Surely he recognized her, even after so many years? Would he pick up where he had left off? "I'm looking for someone."

"Yes?" Yunbok said curiously when she halted, her eyes never leaving Suk-kwon.

"I'm...," her eyes narrowed, "looking for Seo Min-kyung."

"Seo Min-kyung?" Yunbok repeated, watching Suk-kwon out of the corner of his eye; his master had a frozen look about him. "I'm afraid there is no one here by that name." Silence hung awkwardly for a moment. Feeling that the woman might be looking for his master. Though why the surname "Seo"? His master's family name was "Park". Or perhaps that wasn't even his real family name. He was certain his master had many aliasest. He turned to Suk-kwon who forestalled him just as he opened his mouth.

"Hyun-ok, is that you?"

"So you do recognize me after all." A little of her tension left her when she heard him addressed her.

"It has been a long time, more than twenty years. I was not expecting to see you again." The even tone of his voice did nothing to ease her anxieties.

For meeting up with someone he knew so many years ago, his master sure was excited, Yunbok glanced at Suk-kwon's enigmatic expression to Hyun-ok's wary mien. There was something going on. It would be best if he left them alone to it. Surely they would have much to talk about. He opened his mouth to excuse himself but his response was anticipated.

"Please, have a seat," Suk-kwon gestured to the porch. "Yongya, please tell your wife to prepare refreshments." Yongya? Yunbok was taken aback. Why was Suk-kwon addressing him as such? He had never done so before. Why the need for subterfuge? Before he could even say a word, Suk-kwon's next statement left him confounded. "This is my son, Seo Yong."

Hyun-ok paused as she stepped onto the porch while Yunbok goggled at his master in amazement. He wiped it from his face when Hyun-ok turned to look at him and saw an imploring look from Suk-kwon. "Well, what are you waiting for? We have a guest."

"... yes, of course... aboji," Yunbok played along, vowing to get the story from his master before the day was out and made his way to the kitchen of his house. If P'ado ran up to Suk-kwon and addressed him as ajoshi, well, he was sure his master would be able to explain it away. At the kitchen, he drew Jeong-hyang to the daecheong to pass Suk-kwon's request and related what had happened. "We'll get the story from him later but just go along with his wishes for now," he finished.

"Oh, so now I have a abonim," Jeong-hyang grinned in amusement. "I suppose I have better keep to the strictest etiquette," she paused as she was about to return to the kitchen. "You didn't tell P'ado how he was supposed to address master Park?"

"I didn't...," he began and gaped when she turned him around and pushed him towards the front door.

"I believe you did that deliberately. He must have his reasons so don't create any more trouble for him, get P'ado and Changmi in here before they make it impossible for him to maintain the facade he wants to present to this woman. I'll tell Ae-young," she returned to the kitchen before he could say anything else.

Really, how long could his master maintain the lie? And how many people could he ask to help him with it? His old friend could just ask around the village and she would soon know he was no son of Suk-kwon's. Sighing, he opened the door and called in the children just as Ae-young bustled in from the kitchen with a soban topped with small dishes of songhwa-dasik and bokbunja-pyeon. Treats that were usually served to the children after dinner. To distract them, no doubt. The sight of the sweets delighted them so he left them to the unexpected treats. He could not resist, however, to peep out the kitchen door to see Jeong-hyang serving the refreshments with Ae-young peering over his shoulder. My, she was really pulling out all the stops, anyone would have thought she was serving nobility.

"Why don't I get such high quality service from you?" he said teasingly when she stepped into the kitchen. "Aren't wives supposed to observe proper etiquette?"

"Ae-young, does he truly deserve such service?" Jeong-hyang asked as Ae-young grinned. "What do I get in return for it?"

"Aigoo, since when does a wife receive payment for something that is expected of her?" he frowned at her.

"You said it; expected of her. Wives are expected to slog from dawn till night, how much appreciation are they getting?" Jeong-hyang narrowed her eyes, looking as if she was gearing up for a fight as Ae-young looked at them nervously.

"And husbands don't slog at all, is that it?" he said in an exaggerated insulted tone.

"I think that would apply only to the sloven Yangban," Ae-young put in hastily, trying to avert a clash she thought was coming. "Everyone works hard in this village, for the good of all. Yes?" she looked anxiously at one to the other and then realized what she had just said. Hastily, she clapped a hand to her mouth and stared at Yunbok, hoping she had not offended him with the remark about Yangban. Although he had not publicly indicated he was one, she, like every villagers believed he was. To her relief, they looked at each other and chuckled.

"I think we're done on the vegetables," Jeong-hyang said, looking over the dok as Yunbok returned to the daecheong.

"Dinner then?" Ae-young said, "Would she be staying do you think?" she added as Jeong-hyang nodded and went to the water jar in the corner to get the water to wash and cook the rice.

Jeong-hyang thought it unlikely. If master Park had to use deceptions, he would not want this old friend to hang around. But she merely said, "We'll just prepare extra."

Yunbok smiled to himself as he sat at the desk. There was no danger to them quarrelling really but Ae-Young's anxiety was understandable. The children had just about finished their desserts so he beckoned to them; best that he occupied them till dinner time. Both perked up as he pulled out a book from a drawer. This was the part both loved and they sat in rapt attention as he read to them folk tales he had compiled. Stories he had heard when he was young to the tales he across on his wandering and those narrated in the village. He had even gotten Suk-kwon to add any that he knew and the his master knew plenty for he had travelled across the border. The book had intrigued Young-joon so much he made a copy of his own for his children.

When dusk fell, a call from the courtyard interrupted him. Changmi leapt to her feet on hearing that voice and ran to the door, opened it and ran out. Yunbok looked out to see Chang-sun holding Changmi and called a greeting. There was no sign of Suk-kwon and his old friend when he looked past them. Where did they go, he wondered. He invited Chang-sun into the house and cast an eye at the night sky. Maybe Suk-kwon was walking her home? Just to be sure, he went over to Suk-kwon's house and called. As he expected, there was no answer. After a few hails he went to have dinner with Chang-sun. By the time he and Jeong-hyang saw Chang-sun and Ae-young off much later, there was still no sign Suk-kwon had returned. It did not look like he would be able to get the story that day after all. It was pointless to wait so they decided to turn in.

"Appa, I don't want to get married," P'ado said as Yunbok tucked him into his bedding.

"Still thinking about it?" Yunbok smiled at the anxiety on the boy's face. "Don't worry over it."

"Can't I decide whom I want to live with?" P'ado said plaintively.

"It's still early yet for you to be thinking of marriage, but I can promise you that you will have a choice. No one will force you."

"You promise?!" The worry lifted from the boy's face and he sat up. "Appa, you must remember you promise!"

"I do but you need not tell anyone of my promise. That's between us." The boy nodded solemnly in agreement. "Now go to sleep."

Obediently, P'ado settled back down. ""Appa, can I get one more story? Tell me more of the troubles you got into with kunaboji?"

"Aigoo, didn't you get many stories earlier?"

"Just one more, please? I love to hear the adventures you had with kunaboji ... appa, when will I have a brother?"

"All right, one more story," Yunbok said, not inclined to answer the boy's second question. He thought for a while, thinking of the past and launched into one of the scrapes he and Young-bok had gotten into, modulating his voice to a quiet even tone to lull the boy to sleep. Picking up the oil lamp, he checked the doors to make sure they were secured.

"What did Yoo Jung want?" Jeong-hyang said without preamble, not looking up from her needlework as Yunbok closed the door of the back room behind him.

"Oh, an invitation to work on more fields," he said casually as he sat down on his bedding and ducked the chima she sent his way. "I don't think your customers would appreciate having their clothing thrown around," he said, feigning sorrow as he picked up the skirt.

"Fine, I'll make sure your breakfast is burnt tomorrow," she threatened as he handed back the garment.

"Aigoo, how cruel," he said humorously. "The Yoos came in search of a betrothal," he grinned when she stared at him, eyes wide. "I'm not planning to agree to it. I'll need an appropriate excuse that will appease them."

"That will be difficult."

"I had thought of using class status but...," he hesitated.

"That will make them think you're snobbish, it is unwise," she cut straight to the point of his dilemma.

"Yes, but I cannot think of a better excuse," he fingered his moustache absently as he leaned on an arm.

"Why not just tell them the truth? That you would prefer to leave the decision to P'ado," she said matter-of-factly, thinking he was just wasting his time complicating a simple issue.

"Will they accept that?" he said dubiously.

"Why not? You did, after all, defied the family in your own way," she arched a brow at him as he regarded her wryly. "Is it any surprise you would not keep to custom? Or that they chose to have Yoo Jung approach you instead of his wife coming to discuss it with me?"

"Now that you mentioned it," he realised belatedly that the usual betrothal custom was missing a step. "Isn't it usually done among women first before the men are informed?"

"This proposal is very important to them," she picked up the garment in her lap. "P'ado's saju also posed a problem."

"Hmmm, that's true," he rubbed his lower lip thoughtfully.

"But none of it matters. It's better to be honest than having to conjure up excuses that may end up biting you," she continued, fingers working the needle deftly through the garment.

"Like master Park did today? What is this woman to him? "Seo" must be one of many aliases he used back then." Was "Park" also another anonym?"

"An old lover? A relative? Or simply an old friend?"

"A lover. I never heard him mentioned any," Yunbok mused. It was hard for him to imagine a younger Suk-kwon pursuing a woman. "He always avoid the question whenever I asked about his family and such."

"He never gives me an answer either," she put down the garment, thinking over past conversations with Suk-kwon. "He will talk about every other subject except his family."

"There is no dodging the question this time. He will have to tell us why he told that lie and the woman."

"You think so?" she shook her head at him doubtfully.

"It is a silly lie in the first place," he snorted. "She can ask anybody in the village and the truth is out. Then everyone will know what he's about!"

"Do you think he has come back yet?"

"I checked when I was locking the doors, he's not at home," Yunbok sighed as he settled down in his bedding. "He will probably be back tomorrow. I'll be getting the weeds and willow branches, do you want P'ado with you?"

"Yes, some of the mulberry leaves are just about dried so I'll need some help with the grinding."

"Don't stay up too late, will you?" he yawned and smiled when she nodded, watched her picked up her needlework again before gradually falling asleep.

* * *

**Uiryeong gibang**

The brush moved daintily down the page. Noises from outside did not mar her concentration as Iseul finished the last word. Running her eyes over her work in satisfaction, she placed the brush on the pilga, closed the book and picked up another. Pulling an abacus towards her, she checked the accounts again to make doubly sure there was no mistake. Someone called at the door but she did not look up. Feet crossed the room and the front door was opened. A murmur of voices as the maid conversed with the visitor.

"Mistress, Hyeja would like to have a word with you," Yung-chun said as she looked over her shoulder. Iseul nodded. "Please come in," she said to Hyeja.

"Is there a problem?" Iseul put the ledger aside as Hyeja sat down.

"The patron I entertained last night. He's looking for someone," Hyeja said worriedly. "I think it's Jeong-hyang."

That was most unwelcomed news to Iseul. After five years, was there to be another repeat of Hyun-su? In that moment, she wished her friend had been less talented in the gayageum. "Did he specifically asked for her?"

Hyeja shook her head. "No. He asked if there were anyone of exceptional gayageum skill here and for the names of those who play the musical instrument. Today, he roamed the gibang before he left and he paid special attention to those sisters with the gayageum."

"Did he leave a name?" Iseul frowned, tapping a finger on the desk. Who was this man who had come and gone quietly?

"He said he is master Um, a kkokdusoe of a wandering troupe that has just arrived for the Chilseok festivity at the eastern villages."

"Will he come again tonight?" Was Um really the man's name? If he were looking for her friend, he would come again. Would he fully speak of his purpose in seeking her out?

"I do not know." The little catch in Hyeja's voice caught Iseul's attention.

"Pique your interest has he?"

"He is a little different from the rest. Last night, I was merely a living chukpuin," Hyeja almost laughed at Iseul's expression. "He was generous in his payment and asked me to give him a tour of the gibang."

"A tour to see all our sisters. If he comes again, let me know," Iseul thought for a moment and got to her feet. "He might be here already. Let's go take a look, shall we?"

"Do you want me to speak to him first?" Hyeja said as they put on their shoes at the porch.

"But of course," Iseul led the way to the main courtyard of the gibang. "He ran into me last night while you were showing him to a room," she explained. "And he apologised. A character of some calibre," she flashed a smile when Hyeja looked uncomfortable. Yes, her sister was keen on this man. "Let's make a round of the gibang, shall we?"

The pavilion was packed despite the chill of the night. With drinks, the company of gisaeng and braziers, the cold was mere distraction to be tolerated. Hyeja shook her head as Iseul glanced at her when they walked from one end of the large pavilion to the other. Many of the rooms of the gibang were occupied. They paid more attention to single rooms, avoiding the ones that were more raucous. Not many doors were opened. They looked in the few there were. Only to find older men sitting at ease; travelling merchants.

Iseul halted in surprise at the activity of a man and a gisaeng in one of the rooms. Hyeja looked in curiously. Was he painting? The two women looked at each other and then into the room again. The occupants seemed not to notice the observers. Despite the desire to find out more, Iseul nudged Hyeja to press on, casting one last look. Back to the main courtyard they went.

"He is here, at the gates," Hyeja stopped short when she spotted the tall spare figure. Despite the gisaeng speaking to him, his head was turning. Was he looking for her?

"See what he says tonight," Iseul changed her mind about speaking to the man, feeling she needed more time to observe and gather more information. "Go," she urged and watched as Hyeja went up to master Um. After a brief conversation, she led him away.

After watching them for a moment, Iseul returned to the small room where the painting session was going on but the door was closed. She stood thinking for a moment before returning to her house. Taking out a blank sheet of paper, she contemplated for a moment before coming to a decision. Better to take precautions than to regret later. Dipping the brush into the ink, she began to write. The letter was tucked into an envelope and addressed. Going out of the house again, she sent a servant off to deliver it before making her rounds, wondering what Hyeja would find out from master Um.

The subject of her thoughts watched as master Um tore a piece of paper into strips. Thus far, he had said nothing much aside from inquiring after her health and asking for paper. For a moment she had thought he was going to compose a poem or perhaps paint but he did neither. Comprehension came to her as his finger folded and tucked the strips of paper. Delight glinted in her eyes as he handed a snow white grasshopper to her. It stood out in sharp relief on her hand as she marvelled at it, not knowing he was watching her.

"This is lovely, where did you learn to fold paper like this?" she turned the grasshoper over and over, peering into every fold.

"Where my feet leads me," he reached out to the dishes on the soban and bit down on a gotgam.

"Have you no single place to sleep?" she asked curiously.

"There will be no place for me until I finish my task." The gangjeong crackled crisply, following by a swift emptying of the cup.

"Have you not eaten?" she said with some concern when most of the gangjeong disappeared. "Let me get some dinner," she stirred, intending to get her maid.

"No," he reached out to grasp her arm, stilling her movement. "This is fine as it is," he let go and reclined on the poryo, looking at her all the while. Younger than the one he was looking for but there was something about her that made him feel at ease. "Tell me of yourself."

"What is a grain among hundreds?" she fingered the paper grasshopper, pleased by his curiosity.

"A singular grain can be of significance," he said gently. "Please."

"My story is no different from those of my sisters. The family was in need, I was the means to free them of their burdens."

"Is that all?" he said when she fell silent. "You did not make the grade for haengsu, did you?"

"Only the best and talented are sent to the training institutions," she said evenly. "I did not meet the requirements."

"Were you disappointed?"

"Who would not be?" How deep her hopes had been, to be a haengsu gisaeng meant the additional benefit of choosing whom she could entertain. Not to be whirled about at the whims of every other men but it was not to be. "I can only accept my lot," she placed the paper grasshopper on the soban. "Have you found the one you are seeking?"

"She is not here," he did not try to hide his disappointment. "She should not be here but I thought I ought to look," he turned to look at the ceiling, swallowing a pang of grief.

"If she were a former gisaeng then she might have become someone's concubine." That was why he had not pressed her for an answer last night, she realised. It hovered on the tip of her tongue to tell him that what he sought might be what she think it was but she held it back. It was not her place to reveal the information when it might endanger another.

"Her husband died and she left for the unknown."

"The search will be difficult," she said. "Is she important?"

"As of my own body," he sighed. "I will have to move on soon," he did not see the droop of her shoulders at the news. It was foolish of her to let herself take the first step in harboring feelings, she knew and yet she could not help herself.

"How long will you stay?"

"A few more days," he turned to smile at her. "Will you be my chukpuin this night?"

"Will you come every night while you are here?" she removed the gache pinned to her hair, laying it aside together with the binyeo before moving to his side.

"I make no promises," mentally, he castigated himself for indulging himself for it was clear she was beginning to feel something but it had been lonely years for him. Wandering from town to village in his hopeless search. Looking into every woman's face, visiting gibang, talking to gisaeng. Often, he had opted seeking information from the common gisaengs for he doubted there would any difference in what they would have to say of the local gossips. Haengsu gisaengs tend to have more indepth information of certain important persons or matters not generally known but he was not particularly looking for those. He had no desire to stir up trouble for himself.

"I will try my best," he added at the glimmer of sadness in her eyes and wondered at himself for leading her on. He should not have done so but he did not wish to disappoint her. In the end, it would amount to the same thing, wouldn't it, he asked himself. He would leave and she would be left behind.

"I can ask no more," she bent to blow out the candle.

* * *

**Korean Words**

_bokbunja-pyeon - candied raspberries_

_chaekchang - bookcase with doors_

_gangjeong - crisp sweet cookie which can be covered with beans, pine nuts, seasme, pine pollen, dyed boiled rice_

_gotgam - dried persimmon, eaten all year round as they are preserved food_

_hyangseolgo - peeled munbae fruit stuffed with black peppercorns boiled in ginger tea_

_Imjin Waeran - Japanese Invasions of Korea_

_kkokdusoe - chief of the troupe_

_nobi - slaves_

_pilga - to rest wet brushes_

_saju - a peron's fortune based on year, month, day and hour of birth_

_sangmin - commoners_

_sarim - rural literati_

_seoan - desk_

_songhwa-dasik - pressed sweets of pine pollen flor mixed with honey_

**Korean Poem**

_A hundred ten thousand of Island Barbarians_  
_One morning suddenly attacked;_  
_And myriad of surprised souls_  
_Were dispatched by shining swords._  
_The bones piled on the plain_  
_Were higher than the mountains._  
_The great cities and the main villages_  
_Became the lairs of jackals and of tigers._  
_Cold the royal carriage hastened_  
_enroute to Shu._  
_So thick the dust and smoke,_  
_Dim was the hue of the sun._ - Pak Il-ho (1561 - 16?)


	3. Chapter 3

**Cheoseo 1787 (9th)**

The next day, when there was still no sign of Suk-kwon at breakfast, Yunbok could not help but feel anxious. Where had he gone off to? It was unusual for his master leave without telling them where he could be contacted. Did he go somewhere with the woman? Maybe something happened to them. He shook his head, to P'ado's puzzlement as he sat breakfasting next to him, at that notion. It was not prudent to jump to wild conclusions.

"Does your head hurt, appa?" the boy asked.

"What?" For a moment, Yunbok did not understand what the boy meant. "No, no, I was just thinking of something." Perhaps Suk-kwon would be back later but that would mean he would have to make double trips for the willow branches. One load was probably not be enough to make enough fertilizer. The sooner he started, the faster the task would be completed, he decided and hurried to finish his breakfast. "You're staying with omoni to help grind mulberry leaves this morning," he added, much to P'ado's disappointment for he was anticipating a trip to the hills with Yunbok.

"Will I get my staff today?" he said instead. That was another thing he had been looking forward to.

"I do not know. If master Park comes back later, you can ask him," Yunbok scooped up the last spoonful of rice and got up. "Be a good boy and help omoni, all right? There are other days you can come with me to the hills," he said, tousling the boy's hair, aware of his desire to accompany him. P'ado watched as Yunbok went out the door, heaved a sigh and finished his breakfast before bringing the soban to the kitchen.

"Omma, shall I do the dishes?" he asked as he stacked the dirty crockery beside the jabaegi.

"No, I can do those," Jeong-hyang smiled at his diligence as he carefully wiped the soban before stacking it on top of the others in a corner of the kitchen. "The dried mulberry leaves are in the basket on the table outside." He nodded and moved to the kitchen door. "Make sure you ground them properly this time," she added. A cheeky grin was flashed at her and he was out the door.

As he sat at the courtyard, grinding away with the pestle at the leaves, thoughts came and went. For one, he wondered when he would get his staff. How long would it take for him to be as good as aboji and ajoshi Suk-kwon? Ever since he was old enough to appreciate the practice bouts they had every alternate day, he had wanted to learn but ajoshi had often told him to wait till he was grown.

Now that a staff was promised, he felt he could not wait to get started. Visions came. He imagined himself standing victorious over the one or two bigger boys who liked to tease him. Of them promising not to mock him any more. Perhaps they would treat him sweets to compensate for some of the beatings they've given him. Ah but that would not happen. Aboji and ajoshi would not be pleased with him for misusing what he had learnt. He paused to check the contents in the mortar, using the pestle to swirl the powder to check for large flakes. Satisfied there was none, he tipped the powder carefully into a small jar before filling the mortar with more mulberry leaves.

Like a cricket, his thoughts leapt to the stories he heard last night. He liked the story of the two brothers best. It reflected the affection he often heard in aboji's voice whenever he related his adventures with kunaboji. It made his desire for a sibling stronger. When would he have a brother? Although he had other boys to play with in the village, he felt having a brother was different for he would have someone for company at any time, to talk to, share things with. Aboji always never seemed to answer him whenever he asked about a brother, he wondered why. Maybe ommoni could tell him. He tipped another lot of powder into the jar. As he reached for another handful of mulberry leaves, he caught sight of a familiar yet strange woman coming into the courtyard. He frowned. Ah! She was ajoshi's guest yesterday.

"Annyong haseyo," she said when she caught sight of him.

"Annyong haseyo, ajumonim," he said, remembering his manners, releasing the pestle and bowing. She smiled at the serious demeanor he displayed.

"Is harabonim around? I went to his house, he doesn't seem to be at home."

"Harabonim?" he said with some surprise. When did he have a grandfather?

"Is abonim in?" she eyed his puzzlement with curiosity.

"No, he has gone to the hills. Ommoni is in the kitchen, shall I get her for you?" At her nod, he ran to the kitchen and appeared with Jeong-hyang soon after.

"I'm afraid he has not come back since yesterday, after your visit," Jeong-hyang said after an exchange of greetings as P'ado listened.

"I see," Hyun-ok said slowly. Was he avoiding her? Did he think she was still harbouring misconceptions? "Then I will come back three days from now. Will you pass him the message that I need to see him? It is important."

"I will tell him." With that assurance, Hyun-ok took her leave. He could not have left again, could he, she wondered as she walked down the path. It would not surprise her if he had, she knew she was a unwelcome reminder of the past to him. After all these years, he was still hurting? She sighed.

"Omma, do I have a haraboji?" The question that was burning within popped out the moment the woman was gone. Jeong-hyang was afraid he would ask that. They had forgotten to prepare him but then, they never thought they would see the woman again since master Park did not seem to welcome her presence.

"Ajumonim thought master Park is harabonim," she said as she returned to the kitchen.

"But why?" he followed her, eager for answers.

"Because master Park told her. If you want to know why he wants to tell such a story, you will have to ask him yourself," she finished, wondering if he managed to take in what she had just tried to explain.

"Isn't that like telling a lie?" he said after a moment of reflection.

"Yes, it is. It's not hurting anyone so we decided it's all right until he explains to ajummoni," she tried to keep it as simple as possible.

Her answer was a little confusing. He thought telling lies were bad but it seemed there was some difference.

"Are there different kinds of lies?" he tried to think of other types of falsehoods. How many were there?

"There are lies that hurt or use other people for selfish reasons and then those that just fool others but cause little harm. Still, it is best not to lie," she paused as a thought struck her. Swallowing hard, she looked at him. "And there is one more kind of lie...the kind that protects yourself and other people."

"Protect who from whom?" It sounded strange to him.

Silently, she said a prayer as he frowned. "It's all right if you don't understand now, hopefully you will when you grow up."

"So, if ajumonim comes back and asks about ajoshi, I should pretend he is haraboji?"

"Yes, but come get me or aboji if you see her again," she turned back to her tasks. "Have you finished with the grinding?"

"I'll go do it now!" he ran out the kitchen door as she sagged against the cook-top counter, recalling what Yunbok had said five years ago.

_'He will be a young man one day'_

_'I don't know if I can keep my secrets from him indefinitely. How will he react then?'_

He had voiced his concerns with the deception they had to lay on P'ado then. Today, she had a brief taste of it. How would it be when he was all grown up? How would he feel? When Yunbok had asked her opinion about the adoption, she was not as blithed as she made it to be. Misgivings she had but she had felt they should be able to hurdle the problem when it cropped up. Was she right to think that their love and care for the boy would overcome the shock if and when he found out? What would he do? Silly, she scolded herself. He would refuse to accept such a fact. It went against the accepted mores. Yes, he would repudiate them and what could they do about it? Absolutely nothing.

Oh, where was Yunbok? Anxiously, she looked out the kitchen door and then scolded herself once more for getting agitated unnecessarily. Pushing away her anxieties, she tried to concentrate on her tasks. Another discussion over this particular subject that night was warranted.

It was near noon when Yunbok returned to the paper mill with a load of willow branches. It was a bigger load than usual since he decided he would try to get more than make two trips. His shoulders and legs were trembling with the strain but he managed to make it to the table in the courtyard. P'ado leapt to steady the load as he lowered it to the ground.

"Be careful, P'adoa, you might get crushed," he warned when the boy vanished behind him.

"Haha, then I'll just wiggle out from under like a worm," P'ado said cheerfully. Once the load was down and Yunbok had sat himself down at the table to rest, the boy went to the kitchen and came back with a bowl of warm water. "Guess who came just now, appa?" he went back to his grinding, upending the basket for the last lot of mulberry leaves.

"Hmmm...let me see," murmured Yunbok as he drank. The water was like nectar, refreshing after that hot trek back down the hills. He finished the last of it in a long swallow and thought about the question. "Is it ajumonim who came to see master Park?"

"Appa, how did you know?" P'ado said in astonishment. Was aboji all-seeing?

"Ah, so what did she say?" Yunbok smiled at the look of awe in the boy's eyes.

"She said she will be back in three days to see him. Appa, why did ajoshi say you are his son?"

"I'm afraid I don't know but I have to help him since he asked for it."

"How can you be sure the lie will not cause any harm?"

"I see you have been talking to someone. Omoni?" Yunbok bit back a sigh when P'ado nodded. For certain, Jeong-hyang would be worried by this incident. "Do you think ajoshi will hurt other people?"

"..no," Pa'do said after a moment, shaking his head.

"It is because we know master Park that we agree to help him in this lie. But it is still better not to lie because it is not possible to tell what would happen because of that lie."

"What do you mean?" it sounded complicated to P'ado.

"Look at that chicken house," Yunbok waved at the chicken enclosure across from them. "Why do we build that?"

"So that the chickens have a place to sleep, to lay their eggs." P'ado made a face at the rooster striding around its kingdom. "And where they can hide."

"True, we try to think all the possible dangers that might happen and we try to do everything that can be done to make it it safe. But still a sharp eye hawk may suddenly come down and snatch away a chicken." At that, P'ado looked at the sky. Was it possible? "The lie we help master Park with? Although we think it would not hurt other people, we really do not know what may happen. Do you understand?"

"I think so. It is still better not to lie then," P'ado said matter of factly.

"Indeed. Come help me with the willow branches once you're done with the mulberry leaves," Yunbok said, unstrapping an empty wooden container from the jige and put it beside the empty bowl on the table. "Bring these in when you've finished." He pulled the load nearer to the compost patch and untied it as P'ado hurried to finish his grinding. Grabbing the willow branches a few at a time, he threw them onto the compost, making sure they were distributed evenly. After a while, P'ado joined him. "Spread them at the other end," he directed as he picked up a pitchfork to dump hay and weeds along with manure among the branches, making sure they were mixed properly. The ash would be scattered in after he was satisfied with the mixture.

"Appa, will I have a brother?" said P'ado after a while, as he heaved and throw willow branches. This was a good chance as any to know if he would have a little brother like he wanted.

"I don't know," Yunbok sighed softly. The boy was persistent. Perhaps he should not regale the boy with stories of his escapades with Young-bok and made him desire for a sibling.

"I wish I have a brother...," P'ado said hopefully.

"Are you sure you want one? Not all brothers are like hyeong and I. Some brothers do not even like one another."

"Because they fight over the things they want?" P'ado thought of the quarrels he had witnessed among his friends and their siblings.

"Or they can get jealous with one another."

"I don't think that will happen with my brother ...if I have one," P'ado said confidently. "Appa, I want a brother!"

"Aigoo, you think you will get one so easily?" Yunbok grinned. Did the boy think he could order as he would a dish at a jumak?

"The rooster has the hens," P'ado pointed to the rooster which was making warning pecks at a hen. "You have omoni, why not?"

"It's not as simple as that," Yunbok wondered how he should fob the boy off. "I'll tell you that another time, all right?"

"Why?"

"Because you won't understand it, yet."

"Does that mean I won't get a brother?" a little petulance entered P'ado's voice. It was extremely disappointing for him to find he would have no brother after all the fond hopes he had been cherishing. After two letdowns of the day, he was peeved to receive a third.

"I'm afraid so." Yunbok said gently, trying to soften the blow.

"I want a brother!" P'ado stamped his foot.

"Enough," Yunbok said with some annoyance which abated a little when he saw tears in the boy's eyes. "This is not how you should behave. Go on with you, into the house and see if ommoni needs any help." He turned back to his task as P'ado shuffled his feet but did not move. The desire to get what he want waning as regret seeped in at incurring Yunbok's displeasure and at his own behaviour. Although aware of the boy's feelings, Yunbok chose to ignore him until finally P'ado rucked up the courage to approach to tug at the end of his jeogori. He sighed as he looked down at the boy's bowed head and crouched down.

"P'adoa, you must know that to want something depends on the ability to get it," he wiped away the boy's tears. "But sometimes you can wish for it with all your heart, try to do whatever you can and still, it will not happen. Because it is impossible to change reality."

"What is reality?"

"The truth. How is it possible not to believe when a person makes meju out of soy beans? However hard we wish or want it differently, there is nothing we can do to change it." he pulled a willow branch from the load on the jige. "This willow branch is what it is, I cannot change the truth of it. I can bend it, break it, strip it and still I cannot change what it is."

"I cannot get a brother because you cannot change the truth?" P'ado rubbed his eyes, feeling heartsore.

"It's beyond my ability, P'adoya, do you understand? No matter how often I wish it differently."

"I'm sorry, aboji." P'ado did not understand what was the truth that could not be changed but he heard the regret in Yunbok's voice and wished he had not made him sad. It would be better if he spoke no more about wanting a brother. "Shall I continue with the willow branches?"

"All right." After watching the boy for a while, Yunbok picked up the pitchfork he had laid aside. They worked in silence for a while before P'ado piped up again.

"Appa, what is that farming song again? We should sing it so that the fertilizer will be rich and make the plants grow well."

"That is certainly a good idea. Let me see if you can remember it, I'll start the first line. 'An important human affair'..."

"Ah... 'should be making sauces'."

"Very good. 'I will get salt in advance'."

"...'and do as the rule says'. That is easy!"

"...With rain cleared over the mountain',"

"Ah ... ," P'ado frowned.

"What do you find in the mountains?" Yunbok prompted.

"Er... 'I'll gather flowers and herbs'?"

"That is close," laughed Yunbok. "..'I'll gather fleshy and fragrant herbs'. You continue with the next line."

"I can't remember, appa."

"All right, I'll say the rest then... 'Falsia, bracken, royal fern, bellflower, forsythia and compositae. Let's plait and hang one-third, and season two-thirds to eat'. Can you remember those?"

"I'm sure I can!"

* * *

**Uiryeong gibang**

At mid morning, Iseul sat in the small courtyard amidst the cluster of houses behind the garden. The newest recruits to the gibang listened as she touched on the rules, faces solemn. A servant approached quietly and waited to be noticed. The girls watched with bated breath when Iseul beckoned to him. Would they be released early? After reading it, she sent the servant away with a message. The faces of the girls reflected their disappointment as the lesson continued and lifted when she ended it short of the projected time. Only to fall again when she doled out extra work to be done. She hid a smile at their woebegone faces; they looked adorable at that age. She made her way to her house to pick up her jangot and Yung-chun. Just as she reached the main courtyard of the gibang, a little excited knot of gisaeng at the pavilion caught her attention. What were they talking about? At the fringe of the group, she paused to listen.

"...exquisite!"

"Do you think he will do the same for me?"

"If you can catch his eye ..."

"How long is he staying?"

"I like the colours."

"How is he like?"

"He doesn't look like much, does he?"

"He says he will be in town for several days," a coy tone. Iseul peered over the shoulder of the gisaeng she was standing behind. It was Nayoung who spoke, who had the look of satisfaction on her face at the envy from her sisters.

"Come now, how was he like?" Heads craned forward to hear Nayoung better as she lowered her voice. Ignoring the sultry descriptions of Nayoung's night with her patron, Iseul tried to make out what was spread out on the floor. A painting. Of Nayoung, she realised as she squinted past the forest of gache blocking her view.

"Who is this painter?" Everyone jumped at the familiar bland tone and Iseul hastily stepped backwards before she was knocked down by the flurry of straightening bodies.

"Oh," Nayoung flushed a little. "He said his name is Chung and that he's passing through on business," she picked up the painting and handed it to Iseul when she gestured for it. There were no stamps. Just a name; Chung Eon-kon. The picture of Nayoung was candid, Iseul wondered if the gisaeng realised the painter had managed to capture the underlying dispassion of hers in a rough sort of way but doubted it.

"It is well drawn," Iseul returned the painting to Nayoung. "You can sell it for a good sum at the art gallery."

"Oh how can I even presume to do so now!" Nayoung affected horror. "This is good investment for the future," she rolled up the painting carefully. Iseul was not sure about that for the brush strokes were somewhat crude to her but she said nothing and turned away, nodding to her maid as she drew her jangot over her head.

They emerged into a busy street and headed eastward. The cool day made it a pleasant walk that they did not hurry and reached the Han residence without incident. The servant who opened the gate to Yung-chun's call invited them in readily for they were expected. A young man dressed in fine linen got up from the daecheong and stepped down into the courtyard to greet Iseul who sent her maid to the porch to wait after declining to rest at the daecheong.

"So what is this I hear of enquiries after a certain gayageum player?" said Young-joon as they walked to the garden.

"Not just any gayageum player but one who has exceptional skill," Iseul touched lightly at a withering flower. "In master Um's own words, he has been searching for quite some time, perhaps for several years. Whoever this person he is looking for, is important to him. As close as blood."

"Kkokdusoe of a wandering troupe," mused Young-joon. "What do you make of him?"

"A man of some integrity who took the time to apologise to a gisaeng," she smiled at Young-joon's surprise. "A lonely man, tiring perhaps from this task of his for he has an air of weariness."

"He did not mention the name of the person he's looking for, did he?"

"It never came up," she said. "I'm afraid my my sister is somewhat distracted by him."

He smiled in sympathy, knowing what she meant. "You know mistresss Im better than I do," he paused by the lotus pond. "Who do you think this man is?"

"Someone of import. Her family was part of a travelling troupe."

"Can it be...?" he turned as a thought struck him. "After all this time?" Was it possible?

"He has not the grey hair to ber her father," Iseul knew what he was thinking of. It had been her first thought too but after careful consideration and observation that morning, he could not be her friend's close kin.

"An uncle or family friend?" he suggested. "If it is true, she would be pleased to know of this."

"Then you think it is safe to question him further and let him know of her whereabouts if he confirms it?"

"How long before the troupe leave?"

"For a travelling troupe, a few days. They will have to return to winter quarters," she waited patiently as he ruminated for a moment, understanding his caution. Ever since the Hyun-su incident years ago, it had been determined that Jeong-hyang's whereabouts had to be kept unknown even though it seemed unlikely that such an event would be repeated again. Her former profession as a haengsu gisaeng was a conundrum for she would have had brushes with notable Yangban in Hanseong who might think tracking her down was worth the effort.

"I'll send someone to keep an eye on him," Young-joon said finally. "It will not do to lose a tooth while eating dubu,' he grinned crookedly when she chuckled. "If he is as you think he is, we can safely inform her of his presence."

"It shall be as you said." There was no fault in his decision so she acquiescent readily. "How is Su-dae?" she said as they reached the end of the garden.

"Ah," his face brightened and she smiled to see his affections shining so blatently. Su-dae was fortunate to have such a affectionate husband. "She has made a fine recovery. Do stay for the noon meal, she will be pleased to see you," he gestured towards the anbang, knowing his wife was lonely at times for want of additional company. After this recent bout of illness, he had been thinking of ways to enliven her spirits.

"If it is not too much trouble," she murmured as she followed him to the anbang. Unheard behind them, the knocker sounded at the gates. A servant hurried to open them. After further enquiries, led the visitor to the main study room. Outside, a tall spare man stood examining the main gates, looking at the large ponaek mounted on top of the soseuldaemun before turning away. A frown furrowed his brows as he slowly walked away down the winding path.

* * *

It was dark outside, lit by the occasional flashes in the sky. The fowls huddled warmly together, kept well off the muddy ground in their coop. The rooster cocked its head when a ray of light shone into its corner. It was blocked out momentarily when a shadow moved to check the drying persimmons under the eaves. The light vanished when the shadow returned to whence it came. The steady murmur of a lone voice did not stop as the door closed quietly. Nor did it halt as Yunbok crossed over to the desk and sat down. The needle flashed steadily in the light from the tunggyong, both it and the voice almost mesmerising. The voice came to a stop presently.

"A little rushed with gaps," he said when P'ado looked up expectantly. "There is no hiding the dripping bowl," he shook his head when the boy looked sheepish. "It only becomes worst and obvious in your fumblings."

"Yes appa," P'ado wished he had chosen another story to read but he had felt he was up to the challenge of handling the more difficult words. He handed over the book when Yunbok gestured for it and listened as it was read out smoothly in totality. "Appa, why did the magistrate not suspect anything?" he said when the story ended.

"Why do you think the magistrate should be clever enough to know he was being set up?"

"Isn't that what magistrates are supposed to be? How can someone be a magistrate if he isn't clever?"

"While it is true officials are learned, it does not mean they will follow the tenets of what they were taught," Yunbok saw confusion flashed across the boy's face. "Tenets mean the set of rules that guide everyone. In their behaviour, their thoughts."

"He was not following the rules?" the boy frowned before his face cleared. "Ah, he was also not kind to the people he was in charge of. They went away."

"What else?"

"He had a bad temper and bad judgment."

"Neither of which allowed him to use his intelligence because those attitudes of his controlled his every action, his thoughts, his reason," Yunbok closed the book. "Because he is the magistrate, the power of this post allowed him to use his uncontrolled anger to get his own way. He became used to it and expect it to accomplish what he wanted. As time went on, anger became one of his few effective tools."

"Ahh, so that is why he continued to be angry," the boy nodded.

"That is so, because he continued to believe it will solve the problem. In the end, he did not serve the people, he served his own wishes. Is there a word for that, P'ado?"

"Selfish!" the boy said immediately and then added. "Greedy too."

"True. That is why he failed to see the trick that led to his downfall. His own people used his weaknesses against him," Yunbok smiled at the light that glinted in the boy's eyes. "Time for turn in."

"Appa ...," P'ado could not help whining a little, knowing he would have no extra story to listen to that night and got up reluctantly. "Omma," he gave a little bow before he picked up the tunggyong beside him and went to his room.

Silence fell as Yunbok perused the letter on the desk again.

"Is it time for another one?" she said just as he was about to speak.

"I think so. This is an invitation for dinner tomorrow," he folded the letter and returned it to its envelope. "I'm running out of themes," he said. "I might have to visit the gibang soon."

"Do you?" she murmured.

"That or have old master Han inivite your sisters for the dinners," he grinned as she cast a disapproving look at him. "Come on," he tucked the letter into the ham beside him, picked up the tunggyong next to the desk and headed for the back room as she picked up the clothing about her and panjigurut and followed after. As she locked the door, he went to the western corner of the room and pressed down on a section of the floor in a certain manner. A panel of wood dropped down and he reached down to pull out a paper tube enveloped in waxed paper. Opening it, he tapped it gently to tip out the papers within. As he looked through the paintings, she laid out the beddings and quilts, hung her jacket and chima on the hoettae before joining him.

"Pick one?" he handed her a sheaf of paintings.

"This," she pulled out a painting after glancing through the lot. He chuckled after taking a look.

"I can see P'adoa's antics made an impact on you though why would Hyewon even be loking at these at the gibang?" he rolled it up, shaking with amusement before taking her hand. "Did his questions trouble you?"

"We have come this far," she sighed. "It's too late to start panicking and yet..."

"Is there ever peace of mind because a gut was held?" he stared unseeing at the opposite wall. "It is a reminder we should not take things for granted."

"I was caught at a vulnerable moment. I had to improvise and I was so afraid of making a mistake," she smiled ruefully as he drew her into a hug. "We will have to try to prepare our responses from now on."

"I know," he sighed and recounted the courtyard incident. "The taste of jang will be far off as yet. We have another immediate problem however," he said. Suk-kwon was not back yet and he wondered where the man had run off to. It was so totally unlike him.

"What do you want to do?" she held the painting tube in readiness as he rolled up the rest of the paintings.

"The dinner invitation will serve dual purposes," he replaced the painting tube back into the secret floor hollow. "Old master Han probably knows where he went."

"Who do you suppose that woman is?" she bent to double check the floor after he had replaced the wood panel, running a hand over the surface. It was as similarly oil-papered as the rest of the room and blended in so well with the rest of the jangpanji that she would not have known the secret hollow was there.

"Certainly someone from his past who roused unpleasant memories. Whether he tells us the story or no is of no matter. That he is safe and sound is. I'll leave him to sulk in his corner thereafter," he grinned, lifting the tunggyong and extending a hand to her. "Time for bed. Plenty to do on the morrow."

* * *

**Korean Words**

_gache - wig, usually worn by women. Prohibited and banned by royal degree from King Jeongjo in 1788._

_jangot - coat worn by women, often used to shield their faces_

_pangjigurut - sewing box made of wood_

_tunggyong - lamp stand for oil lamp_


	4. Chapter 4

**Cheoseo 1787 (10th)**

**Village jumak**

The courtyard was so awashed with mud after the rainstorm in the night that those who went about their business cautiously in namaksin, wished there were additional heels affixed to their already augmented footwear for the muck ridged higher and higher that feet and beoseon would have been soaked through if the the wet dirt was not shaken off now and then. It was fortunate the girl need not have to step down to the muddy ground. She walked along the porch all the way to the kitchen where her call brought out the tavernkeeper who handed her a soban. Carefully, she made her way back to the room, hoping she would not run into anyone and upset the soban. The door opened to her call and a sleepy face lit up at the sight of the food.

"Wash up first," she scolded when he made to eat. Grimacing, he pulled the basin and towel towards him as she rummaged in the bandaji to bring out a small pouch. "How long do you suppose we have to stay?" she said as she weighed it in her hand contemplatively for it was one-third full.

"Who knows?" he finished his wash and turned to the soban. "As long as we're not setting out in a storm, getting muddy and wet. We're not in want and the others are in no hurry."

"Does uncle seem more distracted to you?" she dug around for the small wooden scoop in the pouch and flipped up the cloth covering the birdcage.

"Maybe he has found someone he likes? Who can blame him if he wants to stay longer? Oooh, this is good," he licked his lips as he swallowed a spoonful of jatjuk.

"That's bad," she murmured under her breath, thinking of the difficulties that could arise before she clicked her tongue at the pigeon that bobbed its head as she tipped a spoonful of grain into its food cup in the cage. At least the little one posed no complication. "Sojo, Sojo," she cooed, smiling when it returned her soft cry.

* * *

**Uiryeong gibang**

Although the night had been cool, the appealing warm company throughout the night had induced a far longer sleep period than what he was used to. Would it that every night was of warmth than of cold loneliness. Someone waiting for him beside a warm hearth. He gave the bow of sokmieum a stir. Why was he getting whimsical? He must be feeling his age. Perhaps he should give up. The search had almost taken him ten years. Could he afford to wander till his last breath? There were others who depended on him. And there were many who would want to settle down after wandering for so many years. Was he feeling this way because he desired to rest?

"Is the sokmieum too cold?" she asked anxiously when she noticed he was not eating.

"No," he smiled at her. "What is happening outside?" For there seemed to be some excitement, judging from the babble of women's voices.

She glanced at the door. "One of the patrons has painting talent and my sisters are clamoring to be his subjects," she said, turning back to her embroidery.

"Have you no interest in trying?"

"His skill is crude and he seems too much of a rake," she hid her distaste unsuccessfully.

"Why does that distress you?" he finished the sokmieum and moved the soban aside.

"To be so unrestraint," she made a face as she recalled the painter's behaviour. "To him, propriety is but a breeze."

Amused by her censorious opinion, he got to his feet. "I must see this exponent of such virtue myself," he said and pulled on his coat and gat.

"But," she was dismayed that he was leaving so soon and wished she had held her tongue. Hastily, she followed him as he left the room.

The disturbance was easy to spot as the room they were in faced the pavilion. A considerable bevy of gisaeng was congregated at a corner. A few men hovering at the fringe, tried to use their height to advantage by peering over the women's shoulders. Some new arrivals were considerably astonished that not a single gisaeng was in attendance. Their annoyance impelled the gatekeepers to tug at the skirts of a few gisaeng to remind them of their duty. Reluctantly, they left the group to attend to the customers. Master Um quickly made his way to the vacated space. Unable to see over the forest of heads and shoulders, Hyeja glanced about.

Where was Iseul, she wondered, for surely the lot at the pavilion would not be so neglectful if she had been around. As if her thoughts had conjured her up, Iseul appeared from behind the gibang, talking to someone. The sight of the crowd brought a look of startlement before a frown settled. Equally curious, the man beside her followed her to the pavilion. A sharp word caught the attention of those idle gisaeng who promptly scattered, rushing tantivy to their tasks, revealing at large the preoccupied object of their attentions; Chung Eon-kon.

Was he so absorbed that he did not know what was going on? Hyeja drew in a sharp breath when she saw what he was painting and glanced at master Um who watched impassively as the picture took shape. A look at Iseul whose face was twitching ever so subtly in incredulity. The man with her leaned forward intently to take in everything while the two gisaeng with Chung fluttered and hid their coy titter behind the buchae they held. The other patrons merely leered, passing comments to one another.

At length, the painting was completed and the painter looked up, directly at Iseul with a grin, as if aware of her disapproval. The insolent look in his eye challenged her to take him to task but she said nothing. His eyes roved to Hyeja and became more impudent. The gisaeng with him broke into rapturous compliments as he visibly made to speak, drowning out whatever he was going to say. The rest of the crowd made offers to buy the painting. Feeling a hand at her elbow, she realised master Um was urging her out of the pavilion and down to the gates. He was leaving, she realised and quelled the questions she wanted to ask.

"I'll come by tonight," he said. The lines around her eyes that shouted her anxiety eased when she heard that. He nodded to her and stepped through the gates. Involuntarily, her feet moved forward before she halted herself and she watched until he turned the corner. As she turned back to the gibang, the man Iseul was talking to walked pass with an air of purpose and vanished as well down the street. Iseul, she saw, was exchanging words with Chung before she turned away, not seeing the hand he put out to stop her. The other gisaeng caught hold of his arm and pelted him with questions. The painting, she noted as she hurried to catch up to Iseul, was in one of the other men's hands as he held it aloft to admire it. Had he sold it then?

"What did you say to him?" she said when she caught up.

Iseul snorted. "Nothing good to grace the morning. Such blatant coarseness is best suited for the sleazy reprobate lurking in the darkness of bookshops," she turned to look back at the crowd at the pavilion. "This establishment may not be the fount of excellence but I will not have such depravity besmirching all the work I have done."

"Why do you suppose he chose this form of enticement?" Hyeja pulled up short when Iseul halted. "I feel there is a purpose to his action."

"You sense it too?" Iseul touched Hyeja's arm and they resumed their walk to the houses. "His paintings are an uncouth facsimile of someone's style of work. Have you heard of Hyewon?"

"Hyewon. Wasn't there some furor in Hanseong years ago? Some competition?" Hyeja tried to remember what she had heard. "Master against apprentice?"

"Of which, neither man won but it caused the downfall of the influential merchant who held the competition," Iseul smiled with satisfaction for the ruin and death of the merchant released her friend. "There was that rumor five years ago that he was here."

"Didn't it turn out that someone was trying to pass off a fake painting as Hyewon's. Is it possible," Hyeja paused, glancing at the pavilion, "he is trying to pretend to be Hyewon?"

"Can a crow be an eagle?" Iseul said dryly. "His skills are mediocre and he is older. Hyewon was seventeen or eighteen at the time of that competition so that would make him twenty-nine this year. Those who saw him commended his talent but also noted that he was not robust. It is possible he would look different now but not so drastically. Current rumor put him with the gisaeng in various provinces but there was nothing about the quality of his paintings lapsing into the realms of blatant obscenity."

"That is true," Hyeja tried to recall the rumors she had heard. "It's said too he is of modest comportment."

"Which does not describe Chung."

"But isn't it strange? Why do you suppose Hyewon disappeared for several years only to appear rather prominently up in the north before moving south?"

"It is said there are foreign powers of considerable influence residing there. It is possible he desires to study foreign artistry." That was the mostly the speculations she heard from merchants and local officials whenever the subject of Hyewon turned up, especially when there were paintings to debate over. "However, there is the possibility his disappearance has something to do with the royal court," she said judiciously,

"Yes," Hyeja nodded in agreement. "That he went against his master has always been the subject of much debate."

"We cannot adjudge him since we do not know what went on. Hyewon is not of immediate concern here. Chung is."

"Perhaps he's looking to earn easy money?" suggested Hyeja. "There's nothing more profitable than catering to the cravings of men."

"If he intends mischief here, he will regret it," Iseul shared a knowing smile with Hyeja.

Of that, Iseul was certain. A mere painter of no consequence could not hope to prevail against those whose support she could count on. Still, she should proceed with caution for she knew nothing of his background. Various plans came to mind as she invited Hyeja into her house. It was doubtful she would learn anything more of master Um from her but every little bit would help. The rest of it would have to come from the man sent by old master Han.

At the pavilion, Chung took his leave amidst much pouting and exhortations from the gisaeng who had entertained him the night before. Calling a cheery farewell to the rest at the gates, he went down the street. Pulling on the strap of the painting tube more securely over his shoulder, he lightly touched the pouch under his coat in passing. Fifty nyang for that painting, none for the first painting but he got a free night with that gisaeng. It was worthwhile to tarry longer. There was more to cull and he was looking forward to it. Perhaps he should consider staying in this town, settle down and set up a painting workshop. A slight smile lifted his lips as he envisioned the cash that would come his way.

As he walked past the nearby jumak, a customer finished his drink and paid the tavern keeper before making his way down the street. He strolled along easily, as if enjoying the clear day, but kept Chung in sight despite the crowd. His target headed straight for the minchon after making a stop at the marketplace for victuals. He meandered a little way into the minchon and further in, passing several houses along the street before his target turned into the small jumak at the crossroad. On he strolled, going past the the small jumak without turning his head. After several paces, he turned about, pretending to look for something and passed the jumak again, glancing in leisurely. Yes, he was in there. Talking to the tavernkeeper. Outside the minchon, he paused to consider his options and then headed for the eastern gates.

* * *

**Han Residence**

The glow of the pale amber silk covered chwadung bathed the porch in warm light. Just enough for the man to admire the painting on his jwilbuchae. He looked up when there came a rap at the gates and leaped up, snapped close the fan, put on his shoes and stepped down to the courtyard. A wide grin split his face when he saw the threesome before he realised some one was missing. Where was master Park? Had he gone away on business?

"Brother Seo, mistress Im, welcome," he bowed as a small voice piped up.

"Ajoshi."

"Oooh! Is this P'adoa? I can hardly recognise him," Young-joon pretended to be shocked.

"How can that be? Ajoshi saw me two days ago," protested P'ado.

"Aigoo, ajoshi must be growing old then," grinned Young-joon. "But come, dinner awaits us."

When they entered the daecheong, Yunbok and Jeong-hyang were surprised to find someone else waiting for them; Iseul. Greetings were exchanged and sobans were brought out once everyone had seated themselves. Dinner was ocheopbansang, consumed at leisure with hyangseolgo thereafter as they chatted easily. The discussion shifted from the the signs and assurance of a bumper harvest to the death of crown prince Munhyo and that of the royal concubine the year before. With no sign of any other sons during the years of the crown prince, there were anxieties there would be no forthcoming heirs. Should the King leave no issue was a matter that none wished to see stamped in reality for the ensuing struggle between the factions would spread chaos throughout.

There was also the trouble over a form of radical Western Learning that seemed to be steadily acquiring adherents. The death of the man who was killed out of hand when he was discovered to be holding a secret gathering of such followers in his home did not seem to deter recruits. How could such learning be encouraged when it obstructed ancestor worship? The core of Confucianism which held the nation together? Truly, such paganism should not even be allowed to gain a foothold in the first place.

The debate was long and drawn. By the time the drinks had been consumed, it was end of first watch. Old master Han invited Yunbok to the sarangbang and had Young-joon closed the doors before asking about Suk-kwon. There was a matter he would like to discuss with him.

"He has disappeared?" he said with some disbelief when he heard what Yunbok had to say.

"He has been gone three days without telling us where he has gone. I don't even know where to start looking," Yunbok could not keep the worry out of his voice. "It is very much unlike him."

"And this was after a visit by a woman, you said. Hyun-ok?" That name sounded familiar to old master Han and he frowned, trying to remember.

"She returned yesterday to look for him again and said she will be back in three days. Sir, do you have any idea where I should look for him?"

Hyun-ok. Hyun-ok. Old master Han patted his head with his hand, struggling to cajole that tentalising memory that insisted on slipping away like a fish. The other two watched, keeping their expressions grave despite their desire to smile at the sight. Old master Han clapped his hands to his face, momentarily forgetting he was not alone.

"More than twenty years," he muttered, dropping his hands to the desk before him, staring down. He reached for the brush resting on the pilga, turning it round and round gently. It was as if he was rolling back the years with the action. A voice raised in anger.

_"Mi-gyeong won't see me. What have I done to warrant such rejection?!"_

_"I will not go, brother Han, not until I resolve this. I cannot leave like this."_

"Ah, it is so," he murmured, opening his eyes. The two waited for him to say something further but he said nothing, his face reflecting his thoughts which were evidently not attending to the present. The two exchanged a look before Young-joon leant forward.

"Aboji? Have you thought of something?" he whispered, as if speaking in a normal tone would startle his father. "Aboji?"

Old master Han sighed. "I'm afraid I cannot tell you how matters stand between master Park and the woman, Hyun-ok. It is not my story to tell," he sighed again. His behaviour only added to Yunbok's suspicion that something from his master's past had caught up with him. "I can tell you where he might be. He will not have gone far; he will not neglect his duty irregardless." Yunbok acknowledged this point with a nod. "He has a private retreat, somewhere in the hills, north-east of the paper mill. I do not know its exact location. He should be there, if I'm not wrong."

That was something at least, Yunbok was glad that his inquiry had borne fruit. "Sir, do you have a map? Has he said anything else of it?"

"Ah, let me see. Joona, on the left of the mungap, you should see a stack of maps, bring them here," old master Han gestured to the cabinet on the wall on his left. Young-joon soon found the pile on top of other papers, neatly tied up and handed them to his father who flipped through them and pulled out the one he wanted. Turning it this way and that, he spread it on the desk. "Here is the paper mill ... north-east ... he spoke of being able to see the Nakdong River," his finger traced the line.

"Able to see the Nakdong River? But that would mean.," Yunbok frowned over the map. "The highest point in the north-east hills. I have not gone that far. Could he have been deliberately misleading?"

"Occasionally he would talk of the peace of the place and the songs of the birds that he enjoyed very much."

"That would describe just about half a dozen other places in the hills," Yunbok said helplessly.

"There was something else he said too. He said he could be as a bird whenever he felt like it," old master Han said musingly as Yunbok's brows twitched.

Well, that was certainly helpful! Be as a bird. What, was his master dressing up as a bird? Perhaps that was where P'ado got the idea of pretending to be a hen to rouse the temper of the rooster. Nothing like an example set by an elder.

"I'll try the highest point to the north-east tomorrow," said Yunbok with little confidence, "and hope for the best."

"I'll come with you, brother Seo. Two at it is better than one," Young-joon said, feeling that it would not be safe for Yunbok to go alone.

"That is kind of you brother Han but I need not trouble...," Yunbok was grateful for Young-joon's offer but felt it was not a good idea to drag his friend away from his duties. He had in mind to get one of the Joon brothers to go with him although that would take away a pair of hands from the harvest preparations.

"That is a good suggestion,"old master Han put in. "I can spare Young-joon for this important task. My mind will be at ease if my old friend can be found as soon as possible."

"Then I shall meet you at dawn tomorrow at the paper mill, brother Seo." Young-joon said triumphantly to Yunbok.

"At dawn," Yunbok nodded in agreement. "If I may borrow the map, sir?"

"By all means, take it," old master Han folded the map neatly before handing it to Yunbok who bowed his thanks. "There is an urgent matter I wish to discuss," he put out a hand to forestall Yunbok as he was about to take his leave.

"Ah, I have brought this, sir," Yunbok pulled the rolled up painting he had slotted into his sleeve before he left home and handed it over.

"Ahh...," old master Han murmured appreciatively as he unrolled it to see a painting of two roosters. "Interesting that you chose this theme. It has some mark on the current problem."

Yunbok said nothing but waited patiently for old master Han to elucidate. The next statement was totally unexpected.

"The most recent painting has gone awry," old master Han said bluntly, motioning to Young-joon to still his tongue as he start in alarm. "The courier who was to hand it over to the proxy drowned when the boat he was in capsized during a storm. His body was not found till several days later. By then, the package he was carrying was missing. A search had nothing up nothing. We had hoped that it was totally lost, sunk beneath the waters or even if it was picked up by someone, it would too waterlogged to be of any use."

"It did not turn out that way," said Yunbok.

"No. The man who picked it up, Chung, came to visit yesterday," old master Han drew out a greyish piece of paper from under a pile of books stacked to the side of the desk and handed it over to Yunbok. "This is what he gave to me."

The ink on the paper had run, dyeing it grey but was not completely bleached. Yunbok was astonished by what he read for it was a collateral for a sum of six hundred nyang from master Han.

"This is the payment for the courier?" Yunbok was perpelxed that such a sum was being paid.

"So it would seem to anyone who read it. However, within it are instructions to the proxy as to where he should proceed to next and when he can expect a delivery. By itself, the collateral is not a problem."

"It was attached to the painting?" said Yunbok.

"A painting that the man claimed not to have."

"The painting was not destroyed?" asked Young-joon anxiously.

"It was double wrapped in waxed paper. The damage to this collateral is minimal, hence, his claim is suspect."

"If he is not trying to sell it to you, sir,...," Yunbok said slowly.

Old master Han nodded gravely. "Indeed. We may face the same problem we did five years ago."

"Two screams in the night draw all eyes," Yunbok murmured.

"What can we do, aboji?" asked Young-joon.

"We're trying to find out all we can about Chung and keep him under surveillance. He has been spending every night at the gibang since his arrival a few days ago. During the day he returns to the lodging he is putting up in at the minchon and does not step out until night."

"How good is his skill?" asked Yunbok. Young-joon stared at his friend, puzzled. How did he know the man paint?

Old master Han flipped over a piece of paper lying face down on the desk before him and passed it to Yunbok. "This is what he has been painting."

Taken aback, Yunbok stared at the painting with distaste and then handed it to Young-joon whose eyes went round.

"His skill is moderate but the theme is excessively salacious," said Yunbok. "To incite interest in his next move?"

"We can assume he is waiting for the best time to introduce the painting," old master Han nodded.

"Sir, what are your plans?"

"Whatever he does, this household will be under scrutiny," he looked at Young-joon. "Do not draw attention to yourselves unnecessarily."

"Yes, aboji. I will tell Su-dae," said Young-joon, laying the painting back on his father's desk.

"Attempts will be made to retrieve the painting. If that does not work, we will try other means to discredit his character. I hope you will find my old friend," old master Han said to Yunbok. "Things go smoothly when he is around."

"I understand, sir. We will find him."

* * *

Feeling restless at the anbang, P'ado asked the women if he and Young-woo could not go out to the garden, a suggestion that was welcomed by the women. A walk in the refreshing air of the cool night. Accordingly, they moved out of the daecheong, chatting all the while. It had been quite some time since they were able to come together and they had much to talk about. The maids followed the boys, ensuring their way was well lit. When they came to the pavilion, the women opted to sit awhile with the chorong set to one side to provide some light.

The maids accompanied the boys who were playing a little way ahead. The talk meandered on the subject of the tasks of making kimchi and jang. Su-dae was of a mind to try a different variety of kimchi that year; dongchimi. Turnips fermented in ganjang with no spices. The recipe intrigued the others. How would it taste?

"I will, however, make the usual kimch too," Su-dae confessed candidly. "It will not do if the dongchimi fail."

"Did you come up with the recipe yourself?" Iseul said curiously.

"I found a cookbook tucked away in the kwe that was once used by the late halmonim. It has so many recipes in it that I am tempted to try them all at once!" Su-dae said cheerfully.

Avid interest lit Jeong-hyang's eyes. "Perhaps you could share a recipe or two once you are done?"

"Trying to fatten up someone?" Iseul remarked archly. "I seriously doubt he will put on despite your best efforts."

"True but I'm looking to expand the scope of the dishes I already know. Do you remember sundae we had at the training institution?"

"You remember that?" Mention of the sausage brought the flavour of it into her mouth that Iseul could almost taste it. "What was it made of?" she frowned. "Pork entrails, cattle blood, bap and seasonings, yes?"

"You forgot dubu," said Jeong-hyang. "I replaced the entrails with meat."

"Were you able to get the cattle blood?" Su-dae mentally noted down the ingredients, thinking she would try it on some other day.

"I used pig blood instead."

"How did it turn out?" Iseul was certain the dish would taste excellent.

"You will have to ask the tasters," laughed Jeong-hyang.

"If the bowls came back empty, there is no need for words," stated Su-dae matter of factly which was exactly what happened but Jeong-hyang merely smiled.

"I suppose Young-joon's bowls are always emptied," teased Iseul. "He is looking glossy."

"I have contemplated having him work in the kitchen once, for all the compliments I get from him," Su-dae said humorously. "Can you imagine him standing over a gamasot?"

"And he would be standing there lost for a whole day, I warrant, until he's fit to pickle."

"It's totally unfair she has no one we can pick on," complained Su-dae even as Jeong-hyang chuckled.

"But who can afford my price?" Iseul pretended to preen. "Those that can will not bend themselves while those who cannot, can bend all they want to no avail."

"There is no need to bend when masterful strokes of the brush can easily accomplish the deed. Ask our sister here," Su-dae grinned at Jeong-hyang before she realised what she said and clapped a hand to her mouth in horror at her indiscretion.

"What? Masterful strokes of the brush?" Su-dae's reaction was so unusual that Iseul looked suspiciously at her and Jeong-hyang. The controlled poise of her old friend roused Iseul's curiosity.

"I ... I meant er ... paintings that, no, that is ... a painting of worth that is equal to the price of a gisaeng," Su-dae hurriedly tried to cover her slip of the tongue, knowing she was making it worse than ever.

Silently, she berated herself for her forgetfulness. How many times had Young-joon emphasized to her never to talk about his friend's skill at painting? If he knew of this indiscretion, he would be furious. Then there was abonim who had reiterated that she should not talk about it to anyone else. He too, would be very disappointed that she had failed to keep her word. Should she confess what she had done to them? She dared not look at Jeong-hyang.

"Is there ever such a painting?" laughed Iseul, noting her friend's lack of reaction. "Even if the painting is purported to be from Danwon or Hyewon's." Was that a flinch from Su-dae? It fanned the flames of suspicion further. "It would take more than one to pay the price for a haengsu gisaeng, don't you think, Sojo?"

"Yes, it would," Jeong-hyang knew her friend of yore. There was that hunting look in her eye when she smelt a mystery.

"But who would have me? I am retired, released from the whims of men. Teaching the girls is what I look forward to each day. Looking at them often reminds me of days that are gone," Iseul touched Su-dae lightly as sympathy and discomfort crossed her face. "Fond memories," she smiled. "Didn't you often speak of those from the travelling troupe, Sojo?"

"That was a long time ago."

"Of whom you remember best?" asked Su-dae curiously.

"That will be aboji," Jeong-hyang tried to bring up an image of her father's face. Did he have a round or square face? She shook her head, the image was less distinct than she realised. "Then there's ajoshi Heo who used to play with us. My playmates," she explained as Su-dae looked puzzled. "Between him and aboji, he was always the one who spent the most time with us, showing us tricks and teaching us how to fold grasshoppers out of grasses during summer."

"Mine would be of food, I'm afraid. Aboji would usually beg for nurungji for me," sighed Iseul as she recalled following her father on his daily rounds to the back doors of the houses of the wealthy.

"Aigoo, such lonesome company tonight," Su-dae said reproachfully. "Leave the past where they are for they do not aged as well as jung. Let us talk of juak instead!"

At that the women chuckled and got up to resume their walk. Jeong-hyang picked up the chorong to light their way. They paused to watch the boys playing hide and seek with each other, laughing as they dashed around the bushes and the maids. She glanced across the flower beds to see Yunbok and Young-joon seated at the daecheong, deep in discussion over something spread on the floor. It looked like a map to her. Were they planning to go somewhere the morrow? Something to do with master Park?

Iseul glanced at Jeong-hyang to Yunbok, thinking of the fear her old friend hid so well. Masterful brushstrokes, Hyewon. She could have easily named some other painters, Yi In-mun or Shin Wi but chose to throw out those two names flippantly in light of her recent discussion with Hyeja concerning Chung, never dreaming it would elicit such reactions. What was it her friend had said of him; someone who had resided in Hanseong, whom she had met at the gibang, a Jungin in a low-ranking official position of a mathematician before a quarrel with his family led him to leave. She had believed it then but now she doubted the story.

Su-dae's inadvertent reactions was proof of that. Was he...? Comprehension lit her eyes and she hid it quicky. Was it possible? She had never seen him painting. Her visits to their home were not that often and when she did drop by, he was mostly doing some chores or if he was at the desk, looking through the students' work. But his script, she had seen it a few times, written with an elegance. She had put it down to his educated background but what if it was something else?

When Yunbok sat up and tucked the map into his coat, Jeong-hyang knew the discussion was over. He would be looking for them, she knew so she caught P'ado's attention, ending the game, much to Young-woo's disappointment. The women and children reached the porch of the sarang just as Yunbok was thinking of getting a servant to go to the anbang to get Jeong-hyang and P'ado.

"It will be curfew soon," he said to them as he put on his shoes and stepped down to the courtyard. "Our thanks for your hospitality, brother Han."

"I look forward to hosting it again," Young-joon said.

"I'll take my leave too, master Han," said Iseul, "If our friends here would not mind escorting me part of the way?"

"But of course," said Yunbok and waited with P'ado as the women went to retreive their jangot from the anbang.

The little group made for the gates when the women returned. After seeing them off, Young-joon turned to inform Su-dae of his intended trip the next day. Would she prepare some victuals for him? A picture of him at the gamasot flashed to her mind and she struggled to keep her giggles in, sobering instantly as she recalled her inopportuneness. She would have to tell him, she knew but it would have to wait till they had privacy for there were servants standing about.

As they walked down the winding path, apprehension grew in Jeong-hyang as she noticed Iseul's speculative gaze on Yunbok. It was no surprise to her that her old friend would figure it out with so few clues. That was so like her; a nose for mysteries. It used to land her in trouble before she learnt that tact was more fulsome than bulling ahead with questions. Sooner or later, Iseul would tackle her but how should she answer? Part of it was also her own fault. Failure to react was as good as shouting an answer but her friend knew her too well and would know she was lying if she said anything.

They made their way easily through the streets, arriving at the gibang in no time. It was a busy night, as usual, judging from the number of men trooping in. Should he go in to take a look at this Chung? Yunbok changed his mind as soon as the idea came to him. It was unlikely he would find the man off by himself and very likely locked in a room with a gisaeng. It would have to wait till he found master Park.

Iseul thanked them for the escort and watched them swallowed up by the thinning crowd as people made their way home and shops began to close. As she turned to step through the gates, the familiar tall and spare figure of master Um came strolling up. Had he spotted Jeong-hyang? If he had, he would not be making his way to the gibang, she decided and hurried through the gates, not seeing his gesture to her.

"May I have a word, yeosa?"

"Yes?" she saw it was master Um who had addressed her with Hyeja behind him.

"If I may be so bold but who is the man you were speaking to outside the gates? I believe his family were with him." Her heart skipped a beat. He had seen them but did he recognise Jeong-hyang? She did not believe they were ready to meet as yet, not without approval from master Han.

"He is a friend of mine, do you know him?"

"No, no, I don't. It's..," he hesitated. "His wife resembles someone. May I inquire after her name?"

"Is this someone important?" she said.

"It's...," he looked around them, indicating the lack of privacy.

"Come to my house, we can speak without interference," Iseul nodded to Hyeja to come along as well. They made their way easily through the crowd. His presence in the small house seemed to make the space even more constricted. "Please," she gestured to the pangsok on the floor and waited till Yung-chun had brought in the refreshments before she sat down

"I am looking for someone," he began as she looked expectantly at him. "She was lost many years ago," he paused for a moment and continued when she said nothing. "As a young girl, she used to be part of a travelling troupe but something happened and we lost sight of her."

"Master Um, there are many ways to lose sight of someone. Would you care to elaborate?" Iseul said evenly.

"She was sold to a gibang by her father," his tone was icy, betraying momentary rage before he sighed. "Under false pretenses. We only learnt of the truth when he passed away almost ten years ago."

"Have you been searching for her since then?" Iseul's eyes widened at the revelation. False pretenses? Did that mean her friend was needlessly sold away? What would that do to Jeong-hyang once she learnt of it?

"Yes. We tried to track her down at the gibang she was sold to, only to be told she had been sent to the training institution and transferred to the Hanseong gibang. There, we learnt she had been sold as a concubine to an influential merchant who was later assassinated, after having lost all his wealth and properties. It was during this turmoil that she disappeared, with no one knowing where she had gone."

"Why this urgency to find her? She may have built another life for herself," pointed out Iseul, immensely impressed by his dedication. He had been searching for ten years?

"If it is so, I can rest easy," he sighed. "But there is a family matter that must be settled."

"I see," she was not sure how she should answer him. On the one hand, she was inclined to tell him the truth. For the other, she was not certain she should in light of the information she received from the earlier meeting with old master Han. "What is her name?"

"She was to be named Min-jee when she came of age. Sojo was what we called her and she was known in Hanseong as Jeong-hyang," he watched her keenly but her expression remained the same. He glanced at Hyeja, catching a look of trepidation on her face before it vanished. They knew her, his eyes widened and his heart leapt before it plummeted when he realised they were not willing to divulge what he wished to know. Why? Was it possible that woman he saw at the gates was her? If she were, she had prospered. It greatly eased his long held despondency but he should not rejoice too soon.

"Do you know her?" he said when Iseul kept silent.

"I'm afraid I cannot give an answer that will satisfy any of us here."

"I would know the reason for the declination," he said imploringly.

"Hot buchae wafts easily," she said, hoping he would not press her.

It hovered on his lips to ask Iseul to name a price for the information but her attitude indicated she would be affronted by such an offer. It was not money but concern that held her tongue, he felt. Why? Why did they wish to keep Jeong-hyang's whereabouts to themselves? Hyeja wished she could remove his pain and disappointment as his face turned into a mask. Ten years it had been. To have persevered and come this far only to be denied. Surely Iseul could tell him something to ease him.

"I have no intention of harming her if that's the crux of your fears," he said frostily. "She is like a daughter to me."

"Nevertheless, the answer is the same," Iseul refused to budge though her heart clamored to. "For now."

"What will change it?"

"I do not know. Only time will tell."

What was she waiting for? Should he wait or should he turn the town upside down to look for her? Frustration welled in him and he fought to keep his calm but it was difficult. To know he was close and be denied by the women before him. Best that he removed himself from there lest he lose control.

"My thanks for your indulgence," he said and got up to leave, halting when Hyeja spoke.

"Master Um, are you leaving?"

Leave? Yes, he would leave and conduct a search on the morrow. An angry retort leapt to his lips but he did not utter it as a thought struck him. Perhaps he could persuade Hyeja to tell him what she knew.

"A little of your music would ease my worries."

It was easy to deduce why he would change his mind when his stance shouted his desire to get away. Iseul flashed Hyeja a look of caution as she followed master Um to the door, hoping she would not weaken in her growing attachment to the man. There was nothing she could do if he did find out. Should she wait till the next morning? There was but half a candle to go before curfew sounded. She came to a decision and hurriedly wrote a letter which she sent off with a servant before instructing Yung-chun to pack some clothing.

* * *

He was poring over the map, she saw as she glanced over her shoulder while braiding her hair. How should she put it to him? She tried to imagine how he would react to the unwelcome possibility that Iseul had found out who he was. Would he suggest moving away? Or would something be done to Iseul? A chill crept up her spine. It would not be he to suggest such an action but if it filtered right to the top, she was sure the order would come.

_Iseul, this is one mystery you should have left alone._

Perhaps it was just paranoia on her part in thinking her friend knew. Perhaps it was just some other matter her friend had discovered. It was a vain hope. What ought she to do? Hint to Iseul that she should keep her tongue stlll? Or just go right out and tell her the danger she was placing herself and all of them in?

"Found a grey hair?" Startled, she stared at the mirror of the chwagyong to see his teasing enquiring gaze. "You were staring at yourself for so long," he said.

"I was just thinking over some of the things we were sharing in the garden. Some recipes Su-dae found in a kwe," she lied, closing the chwagyong, hoping he would not pick up her anxiety. "What do you want to bring tomorrow?"

"It doesn't matter. Have I ever complained about your cooking?" he grinned, turning back to the map, folding it carefully before placing it on top of the bandaji, weighed down by a book. "I hope we find him.

With that woman and old master Han looking for him, he's going to have plenty on his hands, he intercepted her before she could bring out her needlework. "Rest," he scolded mildly. "We have to get up early tomorrow."

The needlework would distract her from her worries but she did not say so. Instead, she chose to do as he wanted.

"Painter ...," she said as he bent to blow out the oil lamp, hands plucking on the quilt.

"What?" he paused to look at her but she did not answer immediately.

"Nothing. I'm just worried about master Park," she said.

"Tsk, I'll be sure to scold him for making everyone so worried," he blew out the oil lamp, plunging the room into darkness, yawning as he pulled the quilt over himself. "He should have left a letter or something. It was impulse on his part, I'm sure. That woman upset him so much he only wants to go somewhere where he can be alone."

No answer from her. She was not asleep, he could feel her restless movements against him. Something was bothering her, he knew but he did not probe. If she wanted to share, she would have done so.

"What's wrong?" he slid his arm across her midriff to hug her closer.

"Just something I need to sort out," she sighed. "Sing me a song?"

"If you can tolerate my horrible singing," he laughed and hummed a little, thinking.

_To live, I wish to live,_  
_In the green mountains I wish to live. _  
_Eating wild grapes and hardy kiwis_  
_In the green mountains I wish to live_

_Yalli yalli yallasyeong yallari yalla_

"Sing me another one," she murmured, feeling better. Despite his self criticism at the lack of a singing voice, it was the touch of his love that was more important.

"Here's one, of my own." he whispered.

_Where you are, I will be_  
_whither land or water, I will be_  
_No elements will wither my heart_  
_where you are, I will be_

"Truly?"

"Truly, Hyangya."

* * *

**Korean Words**

_beoseon - socks_

_chwadung - lantern with silkcovered sides (indoors)_

_chorong - portable lantern_

_gamasot - pots to cook food in or boil water_

_hyangseolgo - peeled munbae fruit stuffed with black peppercorns boiled in ginger tea_

_juak - a kind of tteok stuffed mushrooms, chestnuts, etc and covered with sugar or honey_

_kwe - storage chest bigger than ham for valuables/documents/money/clothes/clothes, etc_

_minchon - commoner residence_

_mungap - writing supply box_

_namaksin - wooden clogs, usually worn in rainy weather, some with high heels_

_nurungji - slightly scorched boiled rice that is usually stuck to the bottom of the gamasot_

_ocheopbansang - five dish meal_

_pangsok - small cushion_

_sokmieum - glutinous rice gruel with jujubes and ginseng_

_yeaosa - madam (formal)_

**Korean Poems**

_To live, I wish to live,_  
_In the green mountains I wish to live. _  
_Eating wild grapes and hardy kiwis_  
_In the green mountains I wish to live_

_Yalli yalli yallasyeong yallari yalla - Cheongsan byeolgok - Goryeo songs_


	5. Chapter 5

**Cheoseo 1787 (11th)**

A hand nudged him gently in the back and then again insistently when he made no response. A little grumbling mew escaped him as he turned away, he only wanted to sleep, and burrowed under the quilt.

"Little chicky gets the grain," a voice said in amusement. Sleep fled when P'ado heard that and he shot up like a mole from its hole in the ground.

"Appa. No, you fed that coxcomb yesterday, my turn today!" a involuntary yawn punctured the statement and he rubbed away the sleepy tears.

"I thought you would want that, tidy up your bedding then," said Yunbok, getting to his feet and going to the kitchen.

As P'ado hurried to do as he was bid, he realized it was barely the end of fifth watch as the room was still dark. Just the tiniest gleamer of light was peering through the opened door of his room to the couryard. It was just a little later than usual, before dawn. As if to confirm his suspicion, the rooster crowed loudly, followed by its mates down in the village. Stacking the bedding and quilt neatly on top of the bandaji, he went to the kitchen.

"The basin is in the aptoe," Yunbok nodded to the opened doors of the enclosed ledge, stuffing the last of the japgwabyeong with fruit and nuts before handing the bowl of tteok to Jeong-hyang who placed them in the gamasot to steam. The used crockery and untensils were washed up before he began to pack the chanhap. "How about some gotgam?"

"I do suppose..," she muttered, worried that he would be away for perhaps two days and a night or more. "With susugyeongdan and gangjeong, is it enough?"

"We won't be away for more than two days. Who knows he is not even now making his way back?" he said soothingly. "Did you ask Ae-young to drop by?"

"I didn't have the time.. where are you going?" she said when he made for the door.

"Making the time now," he said before disappearing, not noticing a small head withdrawing from the edge of the door of the aptoe.

Rubbing his eyes to rid himself of sleep, P'ado wrung out the towel and wiped his face, neck and arms thoroughly, doing it twice over before he rinsed his mouth with the small wooden container beside the basin. His ablution done, he spread the towel he used on a string strung against the far wall, poured what water remained in the container into the basin before opening the tukkoptajimun to give the basin a good heave to toss out the water onto the vegetable patch. After giving the basin a quick wash and another blessing on the vegetable patch, he made his way to the storage shed and measured out the grain. The rooster knew he was coming and stubbornly rose to the challenge of facing down this pesterer that provoked it daily. He laughed as it jumped to avoid getting a shower of grain, he did so like to watch it danced about.

Jeong-hyang sent him to the daecheong with the breakfast soban after he returned to the kitchen. Since Yunbok was not back yet, he helped to pack the chanhap, noting what was prepared. Round and round the words went in his head as he struggled to find the best persuasive argument to plea his case. Occasionally, he glanced at Jeong-hyang, wishing hers was the final word. It would be much easier to get her to agree. Not noticing his preoccupied air, she removed the last batch of japgwabyeong and set it to cool, focusing on the tasks of the day rather than whipping herself into anxieties. There were grain, clothing and beddings to be aired. The vegetables would have to be tended to as well. What else? She looked up as footsteps shuffled in at the kitchen door.

"She'll be along later," Yunbok said.

"Have the meal now before it cools," she said. "Most of the food is already packed."

He went to the daecheong, ruminating over the planned route as he ate the patjuk, not noticing when P'ado came in and started on his own breakfast or even the glances directed his way. Once his breakfsat was done, he checked the pack he had prepared in the backroom, tucking the map carefully away. Did he miss anything? A change of clothing, necessities, dagger, food. Where was Young-joon? Time was getting on.

"Aboji?"

"What is it?" he did not look up as he tied the pack.

"Can I come with you to look for ajoshi?"

"The trip might take longer than a day, do you want to leave omoni alone?" he brought down the staff hung across two hooks on the wall.

"Ajumma Ryang is coming isn't she? Omoni will not be alone," P'ado stared down at his feet. "Omoni is not afraid of the dark."

"Omoni has but a pair of hands," he went out to the daecheong, trailed by a disappointed boy, opening the doors to see the day had brightened as he placed the staff and pack at the porch. Just as he was about to return to the kitchen, the sound of hooves caught his attention. Patiently, he waited and to his surprise a trio of horses appeared, with a couple of servants. Young-joon and two women. To his surprise, it was Isuel and her maid.

"You're late," he said, grinning as Young-joon waved at him before dismounting at the courtyard. "Dawn you said, the day marches on," he nodded to the lightening sky. The servants held the horses still as Iseul got down.

"Aigoo, it's not my fault when someone wants to come along," Young-joon removed the packs tied to the saddle. "I'm leaving some of my clothing here," he hefted a tied bojagi before removing his gat and coat. The servants left with the horses once all the packs were removed.

"Put ajoshi's clothes in master Park's house, P'ado and bring his satgat and staff," Yunbok said to the boy before turning to exchange greetings with Iseul as she came up. "Have you come to keep your sister company?"

"I came to share in the fresh air," she smiled, trying not to look too intently at him. "I'll just waft my greetings to her," she said, knowing her friend would be in the kitchen.

It was silly of her, she knew but she had half expected to see some difference about him. Something that would shout out the truth about himself but he looked as he usually did: tan, lean with a frail air about him. That weak appearance was misleading for she had seen him carried heavy loads and working at the paper mill. Was he really Hyewon? She could not help glancing over her shoulder as she made her way along the porch to the kitchen as Yung-chun wondered at her keen interest. Yes, definitely Young-joon had prospered, came the thought as she compared the two friends standing in the brightening daylight as they chatted. Jeong-hyang greeted her appearance with a mixture of pleasure and trepidation.

"Ajoshi," P'ado handed Suk-kwon's satgat and staff to Young-joon.

"This will come in handy," said Young-joon cheerfully as he laid the conical farming hat on his head. "So are we ready?" he twirled the staff.

"I'll just get the chanhap and we can go," said Yunbok as he fastened the dwitgaenggi of his shoes.

"I'll get it!" said P'ado and hastened to the kitchen and returned quickly. "Aboji, can't I go? Omoni has lots of hands and company already," he said as he laid the chanhap beside Yunbok who did not answer. "Aboji," the boy tried to keep the whine of his voice, aware of a widening audience as the women came up from the kitchen.

"Tell me the reasons why you should go?" Young-joon's eyes twinkled when he heard his friend's question but kept his face solemn

"Firstly, it must be a place we have never been to before. So it must be quite far. There will be lots of things to see and learn. Secondly, you might need someone small to go to places where you can't go. Thirdly, I'm worried about ajoshi too," P'ado tried to inject as much sincerity into his arguments, hoping they would convince Yunbok.

"Is there a fourth?" Yunbok kept his face expresionless. The boy shook his head. "Those are good reasons," he said thoughtfully. "Firstly, since you know it's that much farther than we have ever gone before, a stout heart is needed. Secondly, we would not put anyone at risk even if we think master Park is hiding in a mole's burrow. Thirdly, everyone would have gone in search because they are worried too."

"Aboji, I have a stout heart," P'ado declared. "Aboji ..," he finally let out a whine, tugging at Yunbok's jacket.

"Why do you really want to go?"

"I want to go adventuring with you," P'ado muttered. What he really wanted to say was held back, hampered by the presence of so many.

To let him go or not? Yunbok raised an eyebrow at Jeong-hyang who only smiled. It was his decision, she felt. Young-joon's face was bland when Yunbok turned a questioning gaze on him. No one apparently was adversed to the idea. "Pack some clothes then," he said finally, shaking his head when the boy's face lit up and he galloped away to his room with Jeong-hyang hurrying after him. Picking up the chanhap, he secured it fast along with his pack.

"No satgat, brother Seo?" Young-joon noted Yunbok had only tied on a cloth headband as he followed him to the gates of the courtyard. Iseul trailed after with Yung-chun, listening with interest.

"I'm used to the sun and we'll be mostly under the canopy of the forest if it rains," Yunbok said nonchalantly.

"Oh, then I won't need this," Young-joon removed the satgat from his head as Iseul hid a grin.

"Just hold on to it," Yunbok forestalled his friend from going over to Suk-kwon's house. "P'ado might need it."

"Were you thinking of bringing him then?" Young-joon asked curiously.

"I was considering it when he brought it up much earlier," Yunbok examined his staff for cracks.

"Why did you agree?" Iseul put in before Young-joon could voice it.

"Hearing and thinking is different from tasting."

"I see." Iseul understood at once he meant to teach the boy a definitive lesson. "Did you learn such lessons too at that age?"

"At that age?" Yunbok laughed in wry amusement that had an air of mockery to it that intrigued her. "My lessons were somewhat exceptional."

"Aboji! I'm ready!" P'ado ran up, a small pack bouncing on his back with a similar headband around his head before Iseul could question Yunbok further.

"A stout heart, remember that," Yunbok reminded the boy who nodded. "Come, let's go."

Young-joon flashed a grin at the women before following, jogging to catch up to the duo as they out the courtyard. They went round to the woodyard and down the path. The women watched them from the top of the path as they crossed the creek and ascended the trail that led to the hills. The small group waved once before they vanished from sight.

"Feeling lonesome already?" Iseul said as they walked back to the house for Jeong-hyang looked forlorn.

"With chores to do and your company, how lonely can I be?" Her friend was here to find out the truth about Yunbok, Jeong-hyang was certain of that. As yet, she had not decided what course of action to take. She had not wanted to speak to Yunbok about it when he had problems to deal with. There had to be more than the problem of looking for master Park, she was certain, or he wouldn't be looking so perturbed.

"Yung-chun can see to the grain," Iseul gestured to her maid, "while I'll help you with the rest."

"That will be fine," Jeong-hyang said agreeably though she would have far preferred to have her friend far from the house.

The women separated at the courtyard, Yung-chun to the storage shed while Jeong-hyang went into to the house to collect the clothing, beddings and quilts. Iseul strung up lines across the courtyard before entering the house.

"Here," Jeong-hyang piled half the stack of the quilts she was carrying on her before she could take more than several steps into the daecheong. They spread the quilts on the lines and secured them. "I'll get the beddings," she said before her pile was done.

Such frenetic haste. It was as if her friend was afraid of letting her into the house. Her suspicion grew stronger. Time to tackle the problem before it spiraled out of control and ruin their friendship, she decided. Hanging up remaining quilts, she returned to the house. Jeong-hyang was in the backroom so she stepped over to the desk in the daecheong, her eyes alighting on the row of brushes hanging on the brush stand. There was nothing out of the ordinary that she could see. It was not unusual for a scholar to have a variety of brushes as he could write or try a hand at calligraphy or painting. However, there was no painting or calligraphy hung around the walls of the daecheong nor anywhere else around the house. The only displays would be those of talismans. For a scholar who had worked in a minor official post and sonbaenim of the seodang, that was unusual. Modesty or deception?

"Tired already?" came Jeong-hyang's teasing question behind her.

"No. I am just wondering why there are no paintings or calligraphy around in the house. He is learned, isn't he?" Iseul headed straight into her questions. She lightly touched the brushes before turning round to see her friend voiding her gaze.

"Is there a need for those?" Don't ask any more, Iseul. Jeong-hyang begged silently.

"Every scholar I know always have this desire to vaunt their ability, their knowledge, even those of modest aspirations will put up something of their introspection but I can see he does not." Iseul gestured around the house. "None of his but yours."

"He does as he wants to, who am I to question?" Jeong-hyang murmured, making for the doors and halted at the next statement.

"Sojo, you know I'll never rest."

"The pursuit of truth is unwise. Let it stay," she pleaded, "unanswered."

"You know me, Sojo. I can never rest without an answer."

Jeong-hyang shook her head, knowing Iseul meant what she said. It was so foolish of her but she knew if she refused to give an answer, Iseul would seek one other alternative means. Either querying Yunbok herself, before trying other options that would be detrimental to them.

"It is an unworthy act," she criticized angrily. "You would break the jeolgu with your importunate pounding."

That gave Iseul pause. Was the warning a sign that she was stepping into dangerous waters? "Only if I chose to be indiscreet," she said carefully. "As yet, I've kept my silence," she moved and lightly touched her friend on her shoulder as she drew near. "It's already too late. A fool is at play at the gibang. Su-dae's slip of the tongue led me in this direction and your protests only enforced it," she lowered her voice to an inaudible murmur. "He is Danwon's student, isn't he?"

"You have said it then," Jeong-hyang withdrew, greatly disheartened. "His protectors will have to report this."

"Protectors?" A chill struck Iseul for it seemed the keen edge of a sword was closer than she thought. Regret flashed briefly before she pushed it away.

"I had hoped and prayed you will not press on," Jeong-hyang said sadly. "I really do not know what orders will come."

"Orders..who?" If she was going to die, she might as well know from whom, Iseul decided.

"The dragon," Jeong-hyang wondered if her friend would faint when she turned white.

"Then, old master Han, master Park." Quick as lightning, Iseul began to match up the oddities of past incidents with what she had learned, finding they were beginning to make sense. "That's why they have such resources."

"Who's raising trouble at the gibang?" Jeong-hyang wanted to know.

"Some painter by the name of Chung whose themes are a coarse version of his. I would not have given it any further thought ...," Iseul sighed.

"If it were not for Su-dae. I see," finished Jeong-hyang, seeing how accidental events had led to Iseul's discovery. Su-dae had no skills in dissembling, hence, she had overreacted. If she had not, she doubted her friend would have made the connections. Chung. Was this Chung the source of trouble old master Han was worried over? "Did you say a coarse version? Did he claim to be ..?" Iseul shook her head. "I don't understand then, what is the problem."

"Of that, I am not clear but we have been tasked to keeo Chung under surveillance when he is at the gibang." Iseul raised a warning hand as she heard movements from the kitchen. "I think we ought to discuss this later," she whispered and turned as Yung-chun appeared.

* * *

**Han Residence**

Such a modest residence! It might looked very humble but Chung knew quality when he saw it. Such beautifully worked kyoran railings, pulpalgi and punhapmun. Warm colours and designs. He paused to admire the gloss on the floor. Yes, such a house he would own in future. Perhaps, bigger and not in such a backward town. Ah, he was not thinking. Not thinking! Using his jwilbuchae, he rapped himself on the head. Too straight forward, he was. What to do?

"Sir?" He turned to see the servant looking in puzzlement at him.

"This house is admirable!" he said aloud. "Please, your master must be waiting."

"Certainly, this way, sir," the servant gestured politely and led the guest to the sarangbang where he announced his presence before leaving him there, closing the doors behind him.

After an exchange of greetings, Chung sat down. Pulling out a rolled up painting from his sleeve, he handed it to old master Han. "It seems I have made a mistake yesterday. I found this at the bottom of my luggage."

Spreading it on the desk, the old man pretended to peruse it carefully. It was as pristine as the day it was painted. "It is undamaged," he said.

"Hyewon's work, may I point out, sir," Chung said as he to let his eyes roved around the room, especially on the paintings hung on the walls. This old man was indeed an avid collector of the painter's work! If they were genuine but why should they not be? He was a rich merchant or he would not have made that offer in that collateral. However, the amount of money he would have spent in gathering those paintings must have been staggering. "As a collector, you can see this piece of painting has never seen the light of day."

"And does this painting belong to you?"

"Indeed it does," Chung met old master Han's eyes with an assured smirk. "The responsibility of the former owner now falls to me. Would you make an offer?"

"The collateral is clear."

"But I did not make that agreement," objected Chung. "A new bid is required."

"My offer is the same."

"Is that your final bid, sir?" At old master Han's nod, Chung leaned forward and took the painting. "I'm afraid I will have to refuse," he injected a note of regret. "In consideration of the demand for Hyewon's paintings, I am going to hold an auction. I believe the final bid will be more than six hundred nyang," he paused for a moment but old master Han only gazed back impassively. "You are more than welcome to attend, sir."

"When is this auction going to be held?"

"I will send send an invitation. Thank you," Chung got to his feet and exited the room without waiting for a response. The old man would regret it, he was sure. Only a fool would let such a painting go for such a paltry sum and he was no fool. Putting on his shoes at the steps of the porch, he marched to the gates and out to the path outside. Unnoticed behind him, old master Han signalled to the man sweeping by the gates who tossed his broom to the second man next to him and vanished after Chung.

* * *

**Village jumak**

Patrons at the jumak had a surprise that morning as they sat down to breakfast. Instead of rehashing old gossips, they commented on the skills of the troupe as various members practised their acrobatic skills in the courtyard. A few sat at the porch of the tavern, checking over the costumes and mending those that were in need. Several eyes alighted on the young girl who stood watching a young man on the tight rope as he bounced and pranced about even as he sang a tune.

_I used to be a libertine but I happened to live in obscurity deep in the mountains_  
_Not interested in praying to Buddha but only glad to hear the music_  
_I have come to the Pavilion of Elegance_

"Oppa!" she shouted in reproof, looking over her shoulder, afraid someone would hear. Grinning, he flipped over, caught hold of the rope and lowered himself to the ground.

"It is the truth," he wiped the sweat off his face with a towel slung around his neck. "Ever since we came down from the "mountains", hasn't he ..."

"Enough, say no more," she hushed him. "Did you not notice the clouds about him? He came back early this morning too."

"Perhaps the pavilion of wine and women have soured for him," he evaded her attempt to stopper his mouth with her hand. "How disrespectful!" he chided, fanning himself vigorously with the jwilbuchae.

"No worse than you are. Do you need anything in town?" she abruptly switched the subject.

"Why?"

"I need to buy grain for Sojo."

"Just make that little one into soup, why even bother feeding it?" he pretended to cower behind the jwilbuchae at the glower she gave him.

"It's worth more than you!"

"Aigoo, how can a bird be worth more than your own blood?" he lamented. "Does it lay gold nyang?" he added as an afterthought.

"Since you need nothing, I'll just ask ajoshi," she turned away in a huff, ignoring his chuckles and made her way to the room her brother shared with their uncle. She called aloud at the door and waited for a response. When she went in, she realised she had chosen a bad time to disturb her uncle for there was air of tension and anger about him.

"What is it?" he said when she kept silent.

"Ajoshi, would you be returning to town soon? Ah ... I need to buy grain for Sojo."

Confused for a moment, he stared at her before he realised she was referring to her pet pigeon. "I will be, in a while."

"Ajoshi, is anything wrong?" she said deferentially, uncertain of his temper. "Did you find what you wanted?"

"Perhaps," he sighed, knocking out the ash in his pipe into the chaepan. "I'm not really sure I found the one I'm looking for. Are the others restless?"

"No, ajoshi. But it is taking longer?" she said. If they took too long, they would have to spend the winter where they were.

"Only a few more days. If need be, I'll stay behind and the rest of you can return to winter quarters."

"Surely we should all stay together?" she was startled by his decision. "There is still Chuseok to look forward to..."

"I have not negotiated with the local chongye for Chuesok," he said gruffly, realising that he ought to since he was not ready to leave as yet.

"Then perhaps..."

"I'll ask Cheong-soo to do it," he said as he came to a decision. If the troupe was agreeable, they could spend the winter in Uiryeong. That would give him more than enough time to complete his goals. Yes, that what he would do. Abruptly, he got up and left the room, leaving her to stare after him in bafflement.

* * *

The trail that they took began to split into many paths as they went further and further into the hills, keeping north-east all the while. The grove of trees becoming denser as they left well travelled trails till it felt like they were enclosed. The smell of earth and forest were not as thick as it would be in spring and summer. Nor was it overly humid. As it was, the cool air made the hike a pleasant one. Occasionally there were breaks in the forest canopy and they could clearly see birds, calling and flitting overhead.

Yunbok and Young-joon took turns to point out the flora and fauna to P'ado who wanted to explore and chase after the animals and birds. There were some he had not come across before and he was disappointed that he could not do so. Would they see a tiger or a bear, he wondered aloud as a doe and a fawn leapt away from the noise that came too near for comfort. Hopefully not, Young-joon laughed, they would all be in deep trouble if they come across either one, dropping another one of his expectations from his list.

As the morning wore on, the trek became more difficult for Young-joon who was not used to the exercise. Despite the cool air, he was perspiring as if he was in a hot bath. Eyeing the boy beside him, he tried to keep his chin up but it was getting more difficult. He envied Yunbok walking easily before them. His friend hardly seemed tired. All that work at the paper mill and the daily chores had kept him fit whereas he himself was merely pottering back and forth between home and the warehouse. Surely he must do something about it! Just when he thought he could not maintain his facade of strength any longer, they reached a stream and Yunbok called a halt. Time for a snack.

Gratefully, Young-joon sat down, feeling the tingling in his muscles. P'ado sighed heavily. Yunbok smiled to see them trying to keep their best brave face. Unslinging the chanhap, he opened it and offered it to the boy who eagerly reached for the japgwabyeong. Young-joon was already at his own lunch. "I think this has been the farthest I have ever gone on foot," he groaned as he stretched out his legs, stuffing a sirutteok with beans and mushrooms into his mouth. And then another for it was his favourite; Su-dae had truly coddled him.

"It is so for me too," Yunbok agreed straightfaced, sipping from the water container before munching on a japgwabyeong himself. "Not so fast, slowly," he admonished when the boy crammed the rest of the tteok into his mouth after taking a bite. "You'll make yourself too full and sick otherwise. That goes for you too, brother Han," he said as Young-joon downed his fourth tteok. "You are eating like one starved for days."

"I'm really hungry," his friend mumbled. "All this walking and climbing whets the appetite. Besides, Su-dae made all my favourites. But you are right," he gazed into the gujeolpan wistfully. "Here," he offered it to them. They each picked a tteok and Yunbok returned the favour.

"Nothing like a sweet," Young-joon said as he bit into the gotgam he took from Yunbok's chanhap.

"At the way you are going, brother Han, you are going to turn fat," Yunbok said gravely, hiding a grin as Young-joon stopped chewing. "I do believe you have put on some weight through the years."

"No, really?" dismayed, Young-joon looked down at himself, patting his stomach as P'ado giggled. "Say it isn't so! I don't want to turn into some fat coxcomb I see waddling around town!"

"Give it another few more years, and you will be exactly what you fear," Yunbok struggled not to laugh uproariously at the horrified expression on his friend's face.

"In that case, how about I come down every peak season to help with the mulberry gathering? I have been meaning to talk to you about this," Young-joon covered the gujeolpan as he leant forward. "Walking back and forth to the seodang every alternate day has been very beneficial but I think I want to do something more during winter."

"Brother Han, you have a business to run. I don't think your father will be pleased if you are to absent yourself too often," said Yunbok.

"In truth, brother Seo, I get tired of being cooped up in that warehouse every day during winter. I do not instend to spend the entire day at the paper mill, I will do what I am doing at the seodang; come down every morning on every alternate day and go back in the afternoon," Young-joon said persuasively. "I do think I need it, brother Seo."

"That is a great deal of trouble you are going into." Too much as it was but Yunbok conceded that Young-joon had a point about being cooped up in a warehouse all day. Most wealthy and noble rank men wouldn't even dream of stirring from their warm comfortable abodes if they need not to.

"Anything to keep me from turning fat and nodding off at the desk. You need not worry about my father, I have already discussed it with him," Young-joon decided not to mention the other reason was that he missed chatting with his friend during the layoff season of the seodang. "Do you suppose we will reach his retreat before nightfall?" he nodded at the hills further ahead, changing the subject.

Taking out the folded map from within his pack, Yunbok pointed to the section of the area they had travelled. "I think we have another half of that to go."

"Best we set off then and try to find another stream if we do not find it by dusk," Young-joon stowed away the gujeolpan into his pack as Yunbok did likewise. "I hope P'ado has a stouter heart than I do."

"Ajoshi, I'm sure I can make it there by myself," P'ado said resolutely.

"Aigoo, then you must make good on that statement," Young-joon pointed to the path ahead. "Off we go."

Although he tried to stiffen his legs, P'ado had to confess that he could walk no further an hour later and allowed Young-joon to carry him on his back. It was an immense effort so both Yunbok and Young-joon heaped praises on him. As the day wore on, they passed beneath great swathes of trees, populated by an increasing number of birds. Most of the birds were pewits, finchs, thrushes, skylarks and many others. With the coming winter, many would be gone. Were they getting close? Through breaks in the canopy of the trees, they spotted eagles gliding overhead. They must be near the highest point. The trail had ascended increasingly so they took more care.

They took another break in the late afternoon beside a stream. The water was chilling but refreshing. Yunbok reflected as he wiped sweat off his face. If it were night and he was alone, he would take a quick wash as he had often done when he was wandering.

"How about a bath?" Young-joon suggested, apparently having the same thought as he dipped his hand in the water. "Although it might be chilly. Nothing that a campfire would not mend," he added.

"Ajoshi, that will be great!" P'ado brightened at that idea.

"Since this isn't our chosen campsite, I suggest holding off until we reach it. That or our destination," Yunbok said hastily. "Otherwise, the bath will be wasted."

"That's true," Young-joon agreed as P'ado's face fell.

"I think we're near, we better get going," Yunbok got up. The sooner they moved, the better. If they want a bath, he would want the excuse of preparing camp to avoid joining them. "I think the next ascend would bring us there."

"My legs are going to hurt real bad when we get back," Young-joon complained as he got shakily to his feet, leaning heavily on his staff for the muscles in his calves were trembling with effort.

"On the bright side, brother Han, at least your fears of becoming fat will not be come to pass," Yunbok said cheerfully as they climbed up a steep ridge of rocks. The shape of them made him take a second look. Didn't they look like steps? "Is this ...?" he turned to look back at Young-joon who came to the same conclusion.

"What say we find someone up there?" he asked brightly, glad that they were reaching their target.

"With a hot meal at the end I hope. That will be ample reward for all our efforts. Look carefully where you step, P'ado," he said to the boy in front of him, "if you fall, you may get hurt real bad."

No sooner than the words had left his mouth when Young-joon lurched forward and then back as his tired feet stepped on uneven edges. Hearing his involuntary yelp as he flailed in an attempt to prevent himself from falling down the rocks, Yunbok turned, lunged forward and managed to grab hold of one his flailing hands. A sharp pain ran up his left leg as his friend's weight and downward slide pulled him forward. Recognising they were both in danger of tumbing down, he managed to plant his staff into the soft earth along the rocks, halting their slide.

"Aboji, ajoshi, are you all right?" P'ado asked anxiously, instinctively wanting to rush down but instead, he stayed where he was.

"We're fine." Yunbok looked over his shoulder to assure him.

"That was a fine catch, brother," Young-joon steadied himself, crawling onto a rock on both knees. "My feet just gave way."

"Can you stand? Are you hurt?"

"Just scrapes," Young-joon viewed the rip at the right knee of his paji wryly. "Though I think you hurt yourself," he said apologetically as he caught sight of Yunbok's torn lowr left trouser leg as he stood up.

"That's quite a cut, brother Seo," he said worriedly as the cloth darkened with blood.

"Let's make it up there and I'll see to it." Yunbok said lightly. "The faster the better, wouldn't you say?"

"Indeed. Don't try to catch me again if I fall," Young-joon took a deep breath and stood. "Let's go, let's go," he exhorted, anxious to get his friend up there and had his wound attended to. As they resumed the climb, he fixed his eyes on Yunbok's leg rather than where he was stepping, wishing he could slap on something to stop the bleeding as the entire lower trouser leg was steeped in blood. It seemed to him they were taking forever to get to the top. Once there, he pulled Yun-bok over to a nearby brook.

"Really, brother Han, I am all right," Yunbok protested when Young-joon grabbed hold of his lower left leg.

"It's not all right," Young-joon squinted in the fading light. There was a jagged cut running from the side of the knee to the ankle. "There are bits of dirt in there, it will have to be washed. Here, P'adoa, fill my water container," he handed it to the boy who hurried to do as he was bid and grabbed hold of Yunbok's ankle as he attempted to shift away. "Stop moving around, brother Seo and sit down!" he scolded as he took off the jipsin, haengjeon, beoseon and flipped up the torn lower leg of the paji to expose the wound.

"Here, ajoshi," P'ado came up with the filled container, looking down at the cut worriedly. It looked long and deep to him. The sight of the blood sent shivers down his spine.

"Look, I'll do it...ouch!" a yelp escaped Yunbok when Young-joon poured the water over the cut and would have snatched his leg away if his ankle were not held on tightly.

"Stop squiriming around like a woman!" scolded Young-joon.

Yunbok stifled the half-pain and laugh that arose at that remark. "That's insulting," he said instead. Young-joon directed P'ado to pour as he held the leg steady since Yunbok was still trying to pull away.

"Stop struggling, how can I get this clean when you jumped about so. Maybe I ought to tie you up," Young-joon threatened.

"I'll like to see you try," Yunbok retorted. "Are you done? Ouch!" he steadied himself with his staff as Young-joon pulled off his cloth headband and used it to clear away the dirt in the wound. "Are you sure you are a physician?"

"It's still bleeding profusely," Young-joon muttered unhappily.

"Is aboji going to die?" P'ado's lips trembled as he stared at Young-joon with fright.

"And what do you three think you're doing?" a voice broke in as Young-joon opened his mouth.

* * *

**Korean Words**

_chaepan - ash tray_

_chongye - village council/elders_

_dwitgaenggi - laces_

_gujeolpan - lunch box_

_japgwabyeong - steamed rice cake with fruit and nuts_

_jeolgu - pestle_

_punhapmun - panel, removable doors that ranged from four to eight, can be lifted up_

_pulpalgi - latticed windows_

_tukkoptajimun - pocketed sliding door, calligraphy and paintings were hung only if there are wainscots or another set of sliding doors that can be slide out of view. These type of doors cannot be moved_


	6. Chapter 6

**Cheoseo 1787 (12th)**

The air was indolent with the aroma of food, spoons clink softly, liquid gurgled as bottles were tipped. The flow wqas interspersed with the murmurs of conversation and occasional calls, creating a background of temporary affiliation for him with those who shared in this moment of need. Sitting with eyes closed, it seemed as if he was asleep or meditating. The only movement that came from him was an occasional lifting of the cup. He let the sounds weaved about him for a while before exerting his attention, sifting through the words.

"... old man Har took another concubine recently. I heard this one's even much younger than the rest."

"Tsk, how long can he keep it up? Three concubines and no heir, if you ask me, the fault lies with him."

"How old is he?"

"Who cares? How can he have five wives and leave those bereft even drier?"

"Mark my words, he will be cold before long."

"Pity the women, pity the women ..."

"Another bottle of wine here!" a man shouted, sounding tipsy.

"... secret gathering in Hanseong. That's what my cousin said," a thump on the table. "They had strange rituals, bowing to some piece of wood shaped like a yol, muttering strange words. He said he heard this from a servant."

"Isn't this some pagan teachings telling people not to worship ancestors?"

"Sacrilege! How is that possible?" More thumping on wood and a rattle of bowls.

"... managed to get 70 nyang for half a sack of salt."

"... two days from now. Those who are invited will get a close up view of the painting."

"Is it authenticated already? Remember that incident years ago?"

"I heard it's been verifiied by our most celebrated painting critic, master Gang."

"Not him, didn't he make that mistake some years ago?" a thin voice scoffed.

"Wait, I also heard that one of our most respected merchants has also given his opinion."

"Oh who?"

"Old master Han." A chorus of amazement greeted this statement.

"Aigoo, did you hear it from his own lips? You didn't, did you? Then how can you trust this fellow.. Chung, is it?"

"But he showed me the painting. The stamps are there and this is a painting I've never seen before."

"And just how many of Hyewon's paintings have you seen?"

"It does't matter if the painting is genuine or not, there's free food and drinks you say. And a free run maybe?" A sly note.

"It's highly dubious. Holding a painting auction at the gibang? Surely there are better places?"

"Isn't Hyewon known for patronising gibang? Who knows this Chung isn't Hyewon himself?"

"Hahaha! Have you seen him?" someone cachinnated.

"Shifty looking if you ask me."

"Who cares! Free food, drinks, women and a spectacle to watch. I'm going."

"What about your wife?"

He opened his eyes, poured out the last of the wine and finished it before getting up. Glancing around, he spotted the tavernkeeper serving some customers a few tables away and headed over to her to pay. As he stood in the street, he thought for a moment and then headed west. The man behind him watched with narrowed eyes.

* * *

**In The Hills**

"Ajoshi!" P'ado leapt up and ran over to the middle-aged man who caught him and whirled him in the air, to his delight.

"Where did you come from?" Yunbok looked around them, realizing that they were in a small glade surrounded by towering trees.

"Never mind that," Suk-kwon came nearer to peer at his wounded leg. "That's a nasty cut, fell on the rocks, did you?"

"That was my fault, I'm afraid," Young-joon said contritely. "He hurt himself preventing my fall."

"Well then, you are no physician, let me handle that," he let P'ado down. "Both of you must be in want of a bath. There is a small pool further ahead, just follow this brook," he indicated the stream.

To Yunbok's relief, his friend finally let go of his ankle. "That sounds good. Where shall I come find the both of you later?"

"Come back here and use your eyes," laughed Suk-kwon. "The pool is not deep but still, watch this one," he nudged the boy standing beside him.

"Oh I will, don't worry," Young-joon picked up his pack.

A swim sounded wonderful to P'ado but he was still worried. "Aboji will be all right?" he asked, seeking assurance.

"He will be as good as new when you come back so go and and enjoy yourselves!" Suk-kwon waved them away.

"Aboji, come and join us when you are new!" P'ado said as he followed Young-joon.

"You forgot your pack," Yunbok bent to pick it up and tossed it to the boy. "Change into the clean clothes omoni packed for you."

P'ado waved his hand to show that he heard as he trotted after Young-joon.

"Come on, rascal," Suk-kwon picked up the discarded jipsin, sock and haengjeon. "That's a really nasty cut," he steadied Yunbok as he stepped gingerly in the direction he was being steered to.

"Where are we going?" Yunbok asked in bewilderment as they crossed the clearing to a thick grove of trees. "This is some hideout," he said when he realized there was a small hut nestling among the trees. There were two sparsely furnished rooms. Burlap bags hung from the ceiling of the second room like cocoons with several large onggi standing along the walls and built-in cabinets. There was a smell too he couldn't identify.

"Sit," Suk-kwon directed as he went to the second room. After a day of walking, Yunbok was only too glad to rest his legs and looked on when Suk-kwon returned with two basins, a small jar and clean cloths. "Don't you move," Suk-kwon placed Yunbok's foot on his lap, moved one of the basins under the area of the wound, picked up the jar and uncorked it. A familiar smell wafted to Yunbok's nose. Soju?

"That's not what I think it is.., aaeei, ouch!" Fire ran up his leg as Suk-kwon poured a liquid from the jar onto the wound. "That really hurts!" His other leg nearly kicked out and hastily he stilled the movement. "Stop, stop," Yunbok hissed.

"Stop moving." Clamping an iron grip on the shaking foot, Suk-kwon dipped a clean cloth into the seond basin and proceeded to clean away the debris.

"That's easy for you to say ... did you put sand in that cloth?!" Yunbok thumped the floor with his fists, trying not to yell at the top of his lungs.

"It may look like nothing to you, but it's not a laughing matter out here in the wilds. Hold on," Suk-kwon grabbed hold of the nearby tunggyong and lit it, moving it nearer so that he could examine the wound. Yunbok jerked as he proceeded to clean further, not satisfied with the result.

"Not that!" he protested when Suk-kwon brought out a pair of tweezers and waited with bated breath. "Why not just cut out a piece of my flesh and have done." His toes curled as he thought of the pricking pain that was to come.

"Tsk, stop whining like a woman, do," Suk-kwon murmured, frowning in concentration as he gently removed small stone particles and bits of dirt. After a moment of tension, when he felt nothing, Yunbok laid down on the wooden floor. Tired by the trek, sleep was just an eyeblink away. He was slowly drowsing off, aware of movements about him but preferring to float in that cosy cotton sensation. To his annoyance, Suk-kwon shook him awake just as he was about to slip away into dreamland. "You're done. Do you have clean clothes?"

"Yes, I brought a change of clothing," Yunbok looked at his leg, bound neatly in a bandage. Of the cleaning paraphernalia, there was no sign. They had been cleared away while he was half-alseep.

"Keep the wound clear of water. There's a basin and a water jar in the other room. You can wash up in there. Don't take too long," Suk-kwon removed a portable stove and a couple of large bundles wrapped in cloth from the ceiling. "I'll be preparing dinner," he waved the bundles before a bemused Yunbok. The smell was stronger and it was then he realised it was a fresh kill that was bothering him.

There was just a small salchang near the roof in the second room, Yunbok was glad to note as he locked the door behind him. The floor was wooden so he spread the largest piece of cloth he could find in the pile stacked on top of a bandaji. He scooped up water from the water jar into the large basin atop a tall onggi in the corner and disrobed. If only there was a tub, but then, he would have to dangle the wounded leg outside and that would be awkward and uncomfortable. Scrubbing himself thoroughly, he wiped, dried off and dressed in the clean clothes he brought, feeling much better. After a quick examination of his moustache, he exited the hut with the basin to see Youn-joon and P'ado gathered round the portable stove with Suk-kwon. A campfire was blazing brightly in the darkness. Tossing the water into the grove the of trees, he washed the cloths and basin before returning them to the second room.

"Aboji, why didn't you come to the pool?" P'ado wanted to know when he joined them, disappointment in his voice.

"It's not good to immerse the wound in water," Yunbok was pleased to have a good excuse.

At that reminder, P'ado squatted to look at his leg of which the wound could not be seen, covered by paji, haengjeon and beoseon. "Does it still hurt?"

"Only a little. Did you enjoy your bath?" Yunbok bent to see what meat his master was turning over the roasting spit next to the stove. To his surprise, it was not a pheasant but a hare.

"Ajoshi tried to teach me how to swim," the boy made sweeping motions with his arms. Did Young-joon know how to swim at all? The moves P'ado was making did not look capable of keeping someone afloat.

"Sit down, it's almost ready," Suk-kwon gave the meat another turn. They sat down on the large hwamunseok spread on the grass.

"Were you hunting earlier?" asked Yunbok, recalling the fresh smell of blood in the hut.

"Traps," said Suk-kwon who picked up a short twig from a pile beside him. Carefully, he inserted it into the rump of the rabbit and cut off that limp with a dagger. "Here," he handed it to P'ado whose eyes went round at this interesting way of eating. "Take small bites, it's hot. And here's the other," he handed the second rump to Young-joon. "Try it," he cut off the front quarter and gave it to Yunbok before taking the other for himself.

"What did you season it with?" The flavour was a curious bland of herbs he could not identify but Yunbok found he like it. The flesh was tender and tasted like the dark meat of chicken.

"Whatever I can find around here," Suk-kwon mumbled, waving a hand around them before planting his twig in the ground. Picking up a ladle beside the twigs, he scooped out the simmering soup from the pot atop the stove into small bowls and passed them out. "Try that, essence of herbs!"

"This is almost too bitter to drink," Young-joon made a face as he took a sip even as P'ado grimaced, turning away to stick out his tongue. Cautiously, Yun-bok blew on the steaming soup before tasting it and nearly gagged at the taste. His friend was right, it was extremely bitter but he fancied there was just a tad of sweetness to it as he took another sip.

"To know of sweetness, one must first taste of bitterness," Suk-kwon said encouragingly as he downed his own bowl before picking up his twig to take another bite of rabbit meat. "It is good for the body, especially if you have wounds." he grinned at Yunbok who wondered at his enthusiasm. The olderman did not behave like one in distress but he could just be putting on an act for their benefit. Questions hovered on his tongue but he did not give voice to them. There was time enough for that later.

The remaining food in their lunch boxes were shared out. As he ate his dinner, Yunbok looked around him. Eating out like this reminded him of the numerous times he had his meals out in the open during his wandering. There was usually no campfire for he was afraid of attracting attention of the wrong kind. Dinners were cold or stale and nights equally chilly. If he were lucky, he would find an empty hut that belonged to some farmer or gameshunter. Lonely as it was, he always had something to look up to. He glanced up. Sparkles dotted the dark sky, winking like old friends.

"This is a nice retreat you have," Young-joon nibbled at the bones. "We were thinking we would not find it at the end of the day."

"You never said anything about this place," Yunbok said accusingly.

"Then it wouldn't be a retreat, would it?" Suk-kwon tossed the remnants of the rabbit bones into the campfire where they began to crack and pop as they burn. "I found this clearing many years ago and thought it extremely ideal so I built that hut and slowly brought up or built the other items."

"Have you been coming up here regularly?" Yunbok thought of the burlap bags hanging on the ceiling, the onggi and the stack of cloths. They did not have the look of disuse.

"I usually drop by after I made the paper deliveries, just to make sure the place is orderly. Insects will create havoc if I don't. Toss the bones into the fire," Suk-kwon gestured to the campfire as Yunbok looked about to throw the rabbit bones. "It's better to burn them than buried them, we don't want to attract wild animals." The others followed suit as Suk-kwon added more wood to the fire before dishing out the last of the soup from the pot. It was late by the time they were done. With Young-joon's help, Yunbok washed up the crockery.

Giving up his attempt to wash the bowls as a bad job when Yunbok looked askance at his dipping the bowls in and out of the water, Young-joon settled for collecting the cleaned crockery and pot. "How is the wound?" Yhe glanced at his friend's left leg.

"It's fine," Yunbok said casually, not noticing the odd expression on Young-joon's face as he looked at the lower leg again. During his treatment of the wound, he had noticed in passing that his friend's leg was tan. While that was not unusual, the smooth skin was astonishing.

"What's wrong?" Yunbok said as he stood up but Young-joon remained where he was as if deep in thought. What was he was thinking about?

"Er... nothing." Mentally, Young-joon smacked himself. What was he envisaging? "Brother Seo, I don't suppose your omoni has very smooth skin?" The question popped out before he could hold it back.

"What?" Yunbok was taken aback at that extraneous query.

"I .. thought your omoni must have very smooth skin because er ...," Young-joon stammered, feeling like a fool. Yunbok followed his gaze down to his leg and realized what had brought on his confusion.

"I suppose so," Yunbok said uneasily. Letting Young-joon attend to the injury was a mistake but it was too late to rectify it. He walked away, hoping Young-joon would drop the subject.

"Ah, yes," Young-joon followed Yunbok to the hut, shaking his head. Why was he even exploring the issue anyway? So his friend had smooth skin, what of it? Some men would be less hirsute than the others. He must be more tired if his thoughts were getting so bizarre.

"And what is it now?"

"What?" Young-joon looked blankly at Yunbok, who frowned at him as he plucked the bowls out of his hands and stacked them on the shelves.

"Your face is red. What immoral thoughts are you entertaining?" Yunbok accused jokingly.

"Nothing. Nothing.," Young-joon stammered in embarrassment. Not on his life was he going to say he was comparing his friend's skin to Su-dae's! Deducing Young-joon's bashfulness, Yunbok said nothing further. Blowing out the tunggyong, he placed it in the front room before they left the hut. P'ado was standing by the campfire, staring into it as if mesmerised.

"Do you want a story, P'adoa?" The boy had been unusually quiet, he supposed he was tired as he was constantly yawning as he laid down on the hwamunseok.

"He is tired," Suk-kwon said, tossing a piece of cloth to Yunbok who tucked it around the boy.

"Have another," Young-joon handed another cloth over. "It will be cold."

"You won't be far, aboji?" P'ado yawned again.

"I'll be nearby, sleep." Yunbok said assuringly, patting the boy gently as the other two sat further down on the hwamunseok closer to the campfire. Once P'ado had slept, he went over to them. Suk-kwon lounged idly, poking at the campfire with a stick. "Well, master? What's the story?" Young-joon leaned forward, eager to hear the tale.

"Did she come by again?" There was a sad note in Suk-kwon's voice.

"She did, two days ago. She said she'll try again tomorrow."

"I see," Suk-kwon sighed. "I guess she'll keep on trying."

"Is she..," Yun-bok hesitated. How should he phrase it?

"Someone who might have been," Suk-kwon said bluntly.

Might have been? They waited with bated breath but he fell silent, turning the stick in his hand over and over.

"Really, master, do we have to ask questions every step of the way?" Yunbok said peevishly. "The least you can do is tell us why you feel you have to stay away from her."

"I didn't come up here to stay away. I just need solitude to calm my nerves," a glance at Yunbok's nettled expression brought forth a chuckle. "What is there to tell of a pairing that was not to be?"

"Details, master Park," Young-joon said drolly. "But perhaps, you are right, there is nothing new to that story, it is typical."

"Then I have nothing more to say," said Suk-kwon, refusing to rise to the bait. "We have to return early tomorrow."

Yunbok wanted to laugh at his friend's rankled expression but took the hint. Laying himself down beside P'ado, he made sure the boy was covered properly. The campfire chased away from of the chill but he could still feel the cold. Drawing the blanket around himself, he stared up at the night sky. Tired by the day's exertions, he fell fast asleep, exhausted by the day's exertions. A sharp crack startled him awake. Blinking with some surprise, he saw that the fire was still burning, though more subdued. What time was it? Peering up at the sky, he estimated it was fifth watch. A muffled thud. He realized someone was feeding the fire. He had an idea who it was and sat up, squinted past the flames and got up.

"Can't sleep?" he whispered as he sat next to Suk-kwon, blanket gathered around him as he shivered in the chill.

"I've slept enough," came the sombre reply.

"So what really happened?"

Suk-kwon sighed. "I was on a mission with Young-joon's father." Yunbok looked past the fire to see his friend snoring away on the other side of the fire. "We were running down rogue merchants and smugglers. We did not get the information we wanted so we put the village under surveillance. I came across Mi-gyeong accidentally. A stray dog was creating trouble and I chased it off. That was the beginning. We kept running into each other and eventually, we began to develop feelings for each other. Jeong-min came to know of this and advised that I shouldn't be mixing up personal matters with important tasks. The advice was sound but I didn't heed it."

"Jeong-min?"

"Young-joon's father. I thought it was a simple matter but I didn't foresee that Mi-gyeong's sister, Hyun-ok would also take an interest. Her feelings went to the extreme and she tried to break us up. It was after we made it clear to her that her efforts were futile that she accepted her fate. By then, I had approached their parents and made my proposal. At that same moment, we had a breakthrough in the mission. We knew where they were planning to meet. Hyun-ok overheard Jeong-min and I when we were discussing the plan for the ambush. She mistook it for a secret rendezvous and thought I was cheating on her sister. When Mi-gyeong came to query me about it, I of course, denied there was any such plan. It only served to make her suspicious."

"Then ...," Yunbok's heart sank at what probably occurred next.

"Yes, Mi-gyeong went to the meeting point. When we got there, it was too late," Suk-kwon rubbed his face wearily. "Too late. She was already dead. They killed her. It did not matter to them who she was. They could not allow anyone to witness the transaction."

"Did you manage to get them all?"

"That we did. Hyun-ok was grieved by her error...," a heavy sigh escaped Suk-kwon.

"Are you still angry with her?"

"No." It had been different then. How furious he he had been. His life ripped away by careless tongue. Shouting and cursing, he had damned Hyun-ok to the deepest pit after the funeral and nearly struck her down in his grief and rage. Jeong-min had intervened and pulled him away. If he had not, he was certain he would have killed her. "I left that village on that very day and never returned since."

"You have relinquished your anger."

"How could I not? I am not blameless. My behaviour led Mi-gyeong to distrust my word," he heaved a sigh. "How long can one hold on to hate? It is debilitating and undermines a person's rationality. This is what I come to realize years later. Thus when I saw her again, I do not hate her. She did not commit that act out of spite, it was an honest mistake. She had wanted to make up for her blind selfishness and thought to help bring us together. Never dreaming that instead, it parted us forever. But I was worried she would harbour the sentiments of old, hence, the deception."

"She must have a pressing reason to want to see you again. She has not mentioned what it was that day?"

"No. We only made polite conversation. She said she saw me at the Jungwon because her daughter happened to choose the village as the banbogi."

"Jeong-hyang will get the message if we failed to get back in time. Master, there is another problem brewing in Uiryeong."

Suk-kwon frowned as Yunbok filled him on recent developments. "My old friend has not clarified Chung's background."

"No. Should Chung make a public sale, focus will be on Uiryeong again."

Suk-kwon looked up to the sky. "It's near the end of fifth watch. Time to get breakfast, if we are to make it back home before night fall."

Yunbok rubbed at the goose bumps on his arms as he folded up the cloths. "So where do you get breakfast?"

"Depends on what the traps will yield," Suk-kwon stooped to gather up the mats and handed Yunbok his staff.

"Were you expecting us last night? You had the rabbit and the herbs all prepared," asked Yunbok as he followed the older man to the hut.

"The three of you would have alerted an army a mile away, with all the noise you were making." The mats went into a chest. From a shelf against the wall, Suk-kwon brought down a large folded piece of leather and knives.

"What noise?" Yunbok said curiously.

"You disturbed the wildlife. Here," Suk-kwon handed a large knife almost akin to a sabre to Yunbok who hefted it experimentally.

"This is almost a sword. Are you expecting to kill a tiger?"

"That will be quite an undertaking," laughed Suk-kwon. "Come along and see what the traps have sprung." he drapped the piece of leather over his shoulder, took up another large knife and a smaller one.

"Here, tie that around your waist," he handed a rope to Yunbok before winding another around his waist. "And these," he slung several long pieces of clean cloths across Yunbok's shoulders before picking up a short piece of wood with an oily cloth around one end.

"Am I your mule?"

"A very convenient one," he clapped a disgruntled Yunbok on the shoulder before heading back to the campfire. He dipped the piece of wood into the fire. It flared into life. Torch in hand, he led Yunbok along the brook. They skirted the undergrowth and came to a large pool beneath the overhang of a cliff that veered steeply upwards. "Animals always go to water sources at certain times of the day," he said quietly as he headed to the trees beside the cliff. "Especially more so during summer, when the weather is hot. Less in other seasons."

"It's almost autumn and this is not the only water source. What are you expecting to catch?" It was too dark to see what the suroundings held but Yunbok supposed it was only more thick undergrowths.

"Depends on our luck," a flash of white in the darkness as Suk-kwon grinned. "Ah!" a satisfied exclamation. Yunbok peered in the gloom, not certain what he saw. "Take this and follow me," Suk-kwon handed him the torch. Yunbok trailed after him and came to a stop beneath the trees where a large animal hung in midair. It was a deer caught in a noose. It fell with a heavy thud when Suk-kwon loosened the noose. Carefully, he wound the rope trap round a branch before hoisting the deer across his shoulders. At the pool, he dropped it to the ground and took out the knife.

"You are going to butcher it here?" A slight queasy feeling came to settle in Yunbok's stomach. He had never cut up an animal before or even watched someone do it. He planted the torch in the ground and squatted.

"Better here than the clearing, water to wash and clean."

After spreading the large piece of leather on the ground and laying the deer on it, Suk-kwon used the smaller knife to make cuts around the hooves and neck, made a slit from the neck to the tail before removing the entire skin. He held out his hand for the sabre-like knife Yunbok was holding and struck down hard at the spinal column of the neck. Yunbok retreated hastily as bits of blood and flesh flew. He withdrew even further when the carcass was cut and the organs were dumped out onto the leather. It was gory work he wanted no part of. Turning his back on the butchering, he made his way along the waterfall, trying to see past the foliage of the bushes and trees. Presently, he stood atop a boulder and peered north-east and then south-east but could not spot any coruscating evidence of water near the brightening horizon. When he returned, the deer was already cleaved into pieces.

"What are you going to do with those?" he indicated the antlers, heart, tongue, liver and offal.

"Bury them, there isn't time to prepare and dry them," Suk-kwon paused. "I think I'll burn them instead. Spread out the cloths you have."

"Did you learn to hunt, prepare and cook them in your travels?" Yunbok wondered where his master had wandered off to when he was younger.

"I had to. Some of the places are isolated. Either you learn to hunt or you die of hunger." Swiftly, the meat were tied up in the cloths."Let me have your rope and staff." The rope was wound round the bundles of fresh meat stacked on one another. Suk-kwon removed the one around his waist to do the same to the second stack before tying both stacks to the staff, then he rolled up what remained of the meat in the leather.

"I'll wash up first." He went to the pool and cleaned off the blood from his arms, hands and knives. The water ran red, swirled in the current before it was carried away down the brook. They made their back to the clearing where the other two were still asleep. The blood soaked leather was thrown into the fire which burned brightly at this new fuel. As the liver was cut up and sorted out the soup, Yunbok took the oportunity to wash up at the brook before returning to help.

The forest gradually came to life around them as they went about preparing the meal, the smell of roasted meat and burning leather permeated the clearing. A bird began to call softly, then another and then suddenly, a chorus heralded the dawn that came swiftly. The smell and sounds woke the sleepers. P'ado and Young-joon stared at the trees around them with mouths agape.

"Is this why you told old master Han you could be as a bird?" Yunbok stared up into the canopy in amazement.

"Partly, you have to be up there," Suk-kwon pointed up.

"What?" Yunbok stared up at the trees. "That's impossible."

"Did you build wings and fly up there?" Young-joon suggested, half in jest.

"Ajoshi, I want to fly up there too." Visions rolled across P'ado's eyes as he imagined himself with wings.

"No," laughed Suk-kwon who pointed to the largest tree next to the hut. "Look up there, what do you see?"

"I can't see anything," Young-joon said, craning his head as far back as it could go as his gaze followed the trunk up and up before larges branches of leaves obscured whatever was up there.

"I built a sort of house, just big enough for one." The answer astonished them all.

"You climbed up there and built a house?!" Yunbok said in disbelief, squinting up the tree.

"Ajoshi, bring me up there, I want to see!" P'ado ran over to the tree and looked up.

"I would like to see this house too," Young-joon murmured, trying to imagine the panorama from such an elevated position.

"That's why you said you could see the Nakdong River. I was trying to from the pool but there was nothing," comprehension flooded Yunbok. Climbing the tree would indeed offer a person a wider vantage point than where they were currently.

"Not today, P'adoya," Suk-kwon said, to the boy's disappointment. "We have to go back home. Some other day."

"You promise?" P'ado shuffled reluctantly back to the campfire.

"Indeed, go and wash up. I caught a deer for breakfast. You can cook it yourself."

The idea was sufficient diversion for the boy to take himself off to the brook to wash up. He was pleased when he returned to the fire to find a piece of venison speared on a branch, all ready to be roasted. That pleasure was dimmed somewhat when he found he had to drink more of that bitter herbal brew. However, the promise of a liver delicacy more than made up for it.

* * *

**Paper Mill**

When the trio did not return that night, Jeong-hyang tried not to fret. They were surely safe, they might have already found master Park. The urge to look out the door was strong but she stamped it down firmly, forcing herself to concentrate on the cloth before her. Unbidden, images danced before her eyes. A girl loudly scolding her for crying so much, annoyance blazing out of her. The bouts of anger as they fought, then shame. The tentative overtures of apologies. Laughter as they shared in the games, the work. Giggles as they sat at meals, trying to pay attention to the lesson at hand and failing. A young woman danced in the shimmering light from the windows, her movements lilt and graceful. A pair of hands suddenly thrust themselves under her nose, gayageum held between them.

"That needlework is not fulfilling its purpose," said Iseul when she looked up, startled. "Let the gayageum speak." As usual, her friend was right. Returning the needlework to the pangjigurut, she took up the gayageum.

Listening with half a ear, Iseul reflected on the forbidden knowledge she had learned that day. That she had really done it to herself this time was hardly surprising. That it took so long for her to inadvertently tumbled over the cliff was. Would she manage to scrape through again or would she fall? Hyewon. How amusing to find that the one person most talked about in every art circle and painting auctions living quietly at a paper mill. Working as a laborer. No one could have possibly imagine a talented painter like him roughing it out in such a manner. That he was settled into this life was clear. A King's command or no, she did not think he was unhappy at all. She sighed as the music rang out. Jeong-hyang's unhappiness was as sharp as her music. Her friend had chosen an impassioned piece. The strains ran fast and furious, mirroring the player's state of mind. It filled the house and floated outside.

The rider listened as the horse ambled to a stop and put up a hand as the servant leading the way with the lantern moved beside the horse to help him dismount. They stayed as they were silently, listening to the descant rise and fall. When it died away, the rider nodded to the servant who helped him down. A soft murmur. The servant nodded as he tied the horse to the fence of the vegetable patch and stepped up to the porch to call. Iseul and Jeong-hyang looked at each other in surprise. Who would be visiting so late at night? Pushing the gayageum aside, Jeong-hyang went to the door with Iseul. Hastily, they stepped down to the courtyard when they saw who it was.

"Sir, forgive my tardiness," Jeong-hyang said apologetically to old master Han. "Come in and rest yourself."

"Ah, the fault is mine. I did not warn you I would be paying a visit," old master Han said as he stepped in and returned Iseul's bow of greeting. Quickly, she cleared the gayageum to a corner as Jeong-hyang placed a sedge mat on the floor. Old master Han put out a hand to halt her as she made to get up to get refreshments. "I have something to discuss, do sit down. I have no need of anything," he added soothingly as she made to speak. At that, she settled down to hear what he had to say.

"Sir, you could have just asked me to visit," she said diffidently, "so you need not make the trip."

"I have matters I wish to discuss that I do not want outsiders to overhear. I have questions," he looked at Iseul and lowered his voice so that it was barely audible. "Who else is in this house?"

"Besides the two of us, there is my maid, Yung-chun. I sent her to rest early so she is in the room next to the kitchen," Iseul indicated the door of the kitchen to her left.

"Can you check on her?"

Comprehending that old master Han did not want any others to hear what he had to say, Iseul went to the room and opened the door quietly. Peering in, she saw that Yung-chun was in her bedding, asleep. As she closed the door, she looked around the kitchen, picked up a brass basin hanging on the wall and leaned it against the door. If it were to open, the basin would fall and make a noise. And should Yung-chun go out the other way through the courtyard, old master Han's servant was sitting at the table there. Satisfied, she returned to the front room and nodded to old master Han.

"I understand from Su-dae that she had been indiscreet," he said, still keeping his voice low.

"Yes," Iseul said calmly. "She had talked about something that night and I asked my sister here about it."

"I told her the truth," Jeong-hyang confessed unhappily when he looked at her. "Because eventually, she will find out."

"Who else did you speak of this matter?" he accepted her decision since she would know her friend better and turned back to Iseul.

"No one." The steely glint in his eyes made Iseul nervous so she hastened to assure him. "I have learnt from past mistakes that it's better to observe and ask the person most likely to have the answer than to rake up the mud."

"What are you going to do with it?"

"Nothing," she said calmly. "It does me no good at all to talk about it. I belong to no faction. If I sell the information, I doubt I will live in peace for long. Most of all," she looked at old master Han steadily to convince him of her sincerity. "They are my friends, I will not do anything to bring them harm."

"You are right to say that you would not be able to live in peace should you betray them," he nodded in emphasis. A shiver went down her spine. If she had not persuaded him, she would not live to see more than a few suns. Perhaps it was just a figment of her imagination. But no, those who worked for the dragon be ruthless when the occasion called for it. Sentiments could not hold sway.

"Since you know this much, there is a price to be paid," he said evenly as she paled. "You do not lack for wits and in your current status, there is a need for your service."

"I see," she understood what he was offering. Jeong-hyang opened her mouth to protest and stayed silent at a look from Iseul. "If blood is called for, sir, I willingly offer it."

"It will not come to that," he nodded, pleased with her avowal. "You should return to the gibang soon. In your absence, your assistant has drawn up an agreement."

"Agreement?" Iseul said blankly. What had In-seon done?

"For a painting auction," he saw her amazement and instant comprehension.

"Is there a problem with this painting auction?" Jeong-hyang asked, feeling it was important.

"Hyewon did not tell you what had recently occurred." Old master Han was not surprised and recounted for her what had happened.

"This event will raise too much gossips and rumors," she muttered, stiling her anger that Yunbok had seen fit to keep her in the dark. "Won't it focus their attention here again?"

"Unfortunately, yes," the older man sighed. "I cannot remove this man without knowing where he comes from. The courier met his accident in Gangneung so any information on Chung will take some time to arrive. However time is what we don't have the luxury of at the moment."

"You had hoped to buy the painting from him and ended it there," said Iseul.

"Indeed but his proclivity for wealth and fame had apparently changed his mind."

"Sir, what can we do?" Perhaps they should moved away for a while. But would that even work? "Are you allowing the auction to go ahead?"

"It's already public knowledge. I must venture with care for there is another aspect to consider," old master Han looked at Iseul. "Have you told her about master Um?"

"I have not, sir."

Jeong-hyang looked at the both of them curiously. Why was Iseul looking so apologetically at her? "Who is master Um?" she said.

"Master Um is the kkokdusoe of a namsadangpae that arrived on thanksgiving festival," explained Iseul. There was no sign of recognition on her friend's face except a frown at hearing of a travelling troupe."Since then he had been visiting the gibang, looking for a woman who played the gayageum. Who was sold, sent to the training institution before going to Hanseong. The woman who became the concubine of a merchant who later died. He said he had been searching since then, for a woman called Jeong-hyang."

"But I don't know this master Um," exclaimed Jeong-hyang, perplexed.

"Hyeja tells me he likes to fold grasshoppers. That he has the look of one who is weary of his task. If what he says is true, he has been looking for you for almost ten years," Iseul saw a flash of recognition at the mention of paper folding.

"Grasshoppers? Ajoshi Heo?" Jeong-hyang shook her head. "But, his family name is not Um."

Iseul hesitated. "There is also two other things to note. He has indicated that your sale to the gibang was under false assumptions. And that there is a family matter to settle." She watched worriedly when her friend turned white at that unpleasant news.

"The last puzzle to master Um," said old master Han, "is that he might be working for the enemy faction."

Both women stared at him.

* * *

**Korean Words**

_hwamunseok - woven mat_

_pangjigurut - sewing box made of wood_

_yol - numeric number 10_


	7. Chapter 7

C**heoseo 1787 (13th)**

The silence was so absolute that Iseul thought it was deafening. She stared at old master Han in disbelief, an exact mirror of Jeong-hyang's. Their twinned amazement was so charmingly humorous that he was tempted to chuckle. "Master Um has been observed to visit the home of the faction's agent stationed here."

"There's an agent of theirs here?!" Jeong-hyang was horrified.

"Suspicion still lingers because of that incident five years ago. This agent of theirs have been here for a year. He spends much of his time around the painting galleries, keeping a ear to the ground and an eye on business."

"Do they suspect there is some connection to Jeong-hyang?" Iseul said in disbelief. "Such coincidences..."

"...is possible without direct relevance," interjected old master Han. "Master Um could be nothing more than a simple asset. By using his need to travel widely, they wisely spread out their search without exerting too much resources. And no, they do not know mistress Im."

"Then...," said Jeong-hyang anxiously.

"This concurrence is incidental," old master Han smiled sympathetically at her sigh of relief. "Master Um can be easily deflected but Chung requires more thorough attention. We can try to remove that painting from his possession but it is a foolish thief who takes no care over his loot."

"We have to focus on the man himself," said Iseul. "Remove favourable circumstances around his own position."

"Indeed," nodded old master Han. "If Chung himself is an agent, the intention to seek out Hyewon must be brought to ruin."

"It can be done easily," she said. "He has already vilified himself with his own words and actions. To add more and cloud the issue is of small matter."

"What would you do?" asked old master Han.

"Stoke his pride. How can any man resist it? Especially if his skill is lauded louder than that of Hyewon's? If the painting can be located, would it not be more detrimental if it were to be a fake? Everything that he had said would be doubted."

Old master Han laughed. "Very good." Iseul bowed modestly at the praise. "Indeed, once my old friend is back, we can set about undermining Chung."

"What about master Um, sir," Jeong-hyang asked uncertainly, feeling the need to find out for herself if the man was the uncle has remembered from her childhood. If he was, what had he to reveal regards her sale to the gibang?

"I'm afraid you have to wait," he said regretfully. "If my conjecture is right, he would report no success and cease searching for Hyewon in this town. Until then, both you and Hyewon must not call attention to yourselves. Stay away from Uiryeong, until this matter is settled."

Of course he was right. There was no way she would put Yunbok at risk but she could not help feeling anxious that this miracle of an opportunity to link with her past might slipped away. Hopefully, fate would be kind. Shaking herself, she roused to the present. "Sir, it is late, would not the gates be shut by now? If it does not discommode you, sir, I offer the hospitality of this humble abode for the night," she said.

"Indeed," he sighed, "I had intended to visit in the afternoon but was held up. I was hoping Hyewon and my son have found my old friend and returned. It was a vain hope at best since I know how far they have to go."

"I am sure young master Han is safe and sound, sir," she said encouragingly, hearing the root of his unvoiced concern.

"I do my son an injustice sometimes but I must admit he has improved vastly over the years," he laughed. "My old friend will not mind if I spend the night in his home, I'm sure. My servant will tend to me. I would ask a favor before we all turn in," he added as she was about to get up go over to Suk-kwon's house to prepare the room for him.

"What is it, sir?"

"Will you play another song on your gayageum? I must admit, I enjoyed the piece you played earlier."

"It will be my honor, sir," she got up and moved over to the gayageum.

"And, if you would, something less fiery? I must confess I would prefer a peaceful song lest I dream of angry bees about my head," he added as she smiled in amusement. Iseul hid a grin. He nodded in approval as the gentle strains of the gayageum floated from the strings. Truly, Hyewon was fortunate to have such a wife.

* * *

**Village Tavern**

The smell of prey was illusive but tangible. Eagerly, the dog sniffed along the ground, certain it would soon pick up a more viable spoor. It paused for a moment as its attention was caught by the large shadow standing nearby and dodged just in time as a foot lashed out. Hastily, it retreated and growled in warning. The stooping movement and the raising of an arm was all too familiar an action of pain that it scampered off quickly.

Stupid animal. Chung threw the stone back on the ground. Fit for the pot. Now, where was he? His gaze turned once more to the building. Only a few customers were seated at the tables but he looked through them all carefully. Failing to spot the man he wanted, he looked up at the night sky. It was doubtful he would be able to get back to town before curfew. He might as well try to find a room for the night. Only a room was left, said the tavernkeeper who wanted to show him to it but he asked for a meal instead. At that, the tavernkeeper bustled away.

The wine and side dishes arrived quickly. As he sipped and nibbled at leisure, he began to plan. His prospects were getting more and more rosy by the day. If all went well, he would be settled in wealth. What should he do once he had bought himself a residence? He had yet to decide on a business venture. Perhaps he ought to stick to the one that had brought him luck; painting. Opened a art gallery? The piece of chicken he was chewing was nearly caught in his throat when he spotted a familiar figure walking along the porch. The chopsticks went down with a clatter on the table and he leapt to his feet. As quickly as possible, he hurried after the girl.

"Pardon me, mistress."

The voice was so sudden and unexpected that she nearly screamed in terror as she swung around.

"What do you want?" she rasped angrily, heart pounding at the fright the man had given her. Her eyes widened in recognition.

"I'm here to present an invitation to master Um," he proferred a letter to her.

"Oh," she said before taking the letter carefully. "He's not in at the moment, I'll hand it to him later," she made to continue on her way but stopped when he put out a hand.

"If I may be so bold. How should I address you?"

"I don't see what it has to do with you, sir," she said, taken aback by his forward manner. "Excuse me," she stopped again as he stretched forth his hand again. "Really," she began angrily. If he intended trouble, then she would make it landed on his head.

"A gift, mistress. Please accept this." It was then she realised there was a pendant in his palm. "Please, do not cast my pride into the ground."

Pride? He was shameless! A retort rose to her lips that she knew him not but changed her mind. She picked up the pendant gingerly, taking care not to touch his hand at all and walked off. This time, he did not stop her but watched with a light in his eyes. It mattered not to him that she would cast it off soon but that she had heeded his plea. A good step. What was next? Smiling to himself, he returned to his table, ignoring the eyes of the other customers who had witnessed the exchange. Fancy approaching a girl so.

Smoke drifted lazily to the ceiling as tobacco gleamed in the smoking bowl of the pipe. Experimentally, he drew a mouthful and tried to puff rings. The sudden opening of the door startled him not at all but the object that flew through the air and landed on him gave him a moment of fright for he thought it was an extremely large insect.

"Aigoo! What is this?!" he picked it up. A butterfly pendant. "Rather cheap isn't it?" he rubbed his thumb over the threads.

"Oppa, you have such discerning taste," she sat down and picked up the jacket where she had left it.

"So who gave this to you?"

"That odious man ajoshi and I ran into in town yesterday."

"What? He's here?"

"He's here to present an invitation to ajoshi," she brought the jacket closer to the opened window as she mended the tear. "He waylaid me outside at the porch and gave me that pendant."

"Ahh ... a suitor," he grinned, lifting the pendant. Such poor workmanship! "A threadbare fellow is he?"

"In everything."

"Oh my, that is harsh. Very harsh," he shook his head at the crtitcism. "Is he still out there?"

"You can take a look at him tomorrow. He should have rented a room for the night."

"Tsk tsk, who's sharper than sharp?"

"Hopefully, enough to make him realise the pain of the chase." They grinned at each other.

* * *

**The Hills**

After making sure everything was cleared away and stored, water was poured on the campfire to make sure the flames were put out. Satisfied that all was in order, they set off, returning the glade back to its bucolic state. They took turns at the carrying pole-staff for the venison was heavy. A couple of rabbits that Suk-kwon had found in other traps dangled next to the meat. Rather than releasing them, he had opted to butcher them. A treat for the women, he had declared. Surely the venison was a more than substantial novelty, Yunbok anxiously eyed the blood seeping through the dripping bundles for the scent would surely attract wild animals.

Without the need to fight an ascending slope, they made better progress with the descent. Suk-kwon knew a shortcut or two which reduced the distance they had to go. By noon, they were already past the midway point and he estimated they would be back at the paper mill within a couple of hours. They stopped by a stream to rest. Young-joon barely had the appetite for cold roast venison. Unaccustomed to such a strenuous march, he was very tired. Suk-kwon encouraged him to drink small sips of water and a few bites of the meat. To chew slowly but not to swallow. If he did not eat, he would feel uncomfortable later when he finally had a meal.

They would rest longer, Suk-kwon decided as he looked at P'ado who was lying down beside the stream. The boy was chewing on his venison and looking at the water, kicking his feet and looked utterly relaxed. Yunbok shook his head at his glance; he was not as exhausted as Young-joon but a longer respite was welcomed as the wound on his lower left leg was aching and itching. Before he realized it, he fell asleep as he sat under a tree and woke up with a start when he thought he heard a call. Sitting up, he looked around as Suk-kwon followed suit. Young-joon snored away beside the stream, having heard nothing.

"Where's P'ado?" Worry rose in Yunbok when he saw that the boy was nowhere to be seen,

"He went off to the bushes to relieve himself," Suk-kwon gestured behind him. "It's not far though..," he hesitated.

"I heard something," Yunbok stood up, intending to look for P'ado when there came a yell and the boy came bounding through the bushes. Something heavy was crashing noisily behind him.

"_BEAR_!" P'ado shouted. The shout jolted Young-joon awake.

"Stop! Don't run!" Suk-kown bellowed as Yunbok grabbed hold of P'ado, intending to carry him away and Young-joon leapt to his feet, staff in hand. "You will only encourage an attack if you run. Stand where you are, don't look directly at its eyes. Speak softly if you have to." The bear crashed into view as he was speaking and stopped short at the sight of them. It sniffed in their direction and hesitated, its snout wavering back and forth. Its paws shifted.

"What do you suppose it wants?" Young-joon followed Suk-kwon's suggestions to the letter, keeping his voice low. His grip tightened on the staff when he saw that Yunbok and P'ado were closer to the bear than he was. If the bear attacked, they were the nearest targets.

"The meat?" Yunbok did not turn his head, he took a firmer hold of P'ado, ready to toss him out of the way if the bear made a threatening movement towards them.

"It smelt the blood," Suk-kwon agreed. Slowly, he crouched down and untied one of the rabbit carcasses from the carrying pole-staff. "I'll throw this behind him, if he goes, back up and we will leave. Hopefully, the rabbit is enough to satisfy him."

He held the carcass before him, waving it slightly to attract the bear's attention and threw it as far as he could behind it. It heard the noise, looked behind, turned to the front and then back again, sniffing. There was the scent now in two directions, the strongest in front but there were strange animals in the way. It did not like the smell of them. It sniffed again and turned back into the bushes.

"Quick, before it comes back," Suk-kwon said, grabbing hold of one end of the carrying pole-staff as Young-joon tossed his own staff to Yunbok and picked up the other end.

"Wait," Yunbok said, darting forward to remove the remaining rabbit carcass. "I'll hold on to this. If it comes after us again, I'll just throw it as a distraction."

"Be careful it does not attack you for it," Suk-kwon warned. "Come, let us hurry."

They hurried off down the trail. Yunbok urged P'ado to keep nearer to Suk-kwon as he glanced behind, deliberately lagging behind so he could cover Young-joon's back. Unlike a tiger, a bear would make considerably more noise so he kept his sense keen. When an hour passed with no sign of pursuit, he sighed with relief. They stopped again to rest for a while before setting off again at a slower pace for they were tiring. Before long, familiar landmarks came into sight and they knew they were near the paper mill. As they descend the path down to the creek, Yunbok fancied he heard something behind him and turned to look.

"He's back!" he shouted as a familiar hulk came into sight with a lumbering trot.

"Step into the water and cross the creek!" Suk-kwon doubled the pace as Young-joon strove to keep up. Water splashed wildly as they waded through. P'ado stumbled, tired by the journey, having valiantly kept pace with the adults. Picking him up by the midriff, Yunbok ran across the stone crossing of the creek, holding the rabbit carcass away from him over the water.

"We'll stop here and see what he does," Suk-kwon wiped off the water droplets from his face when they reached the other side of the creek. Young-joon panted, releasing his end of the carrying pole-staff.

"Aboji, I can't breathe," P'ado wheezed, bent double over Yunbok's arm.

"Oh," Yunbok put him down and he promptly dropped to the ground, too exhausted to stand on shaking legs.

"I doubt I can move another step," Young-joon groaned, imitating the boy.

"He's not sure how to proceed since he lost the scent," Suk-kwon pointed to the bear standing on the opposite bank, sniffing around uncertainly. "Better get some pots here, Rascal. I don't want to carry the meat any further."

'Come, let's get you back home," Yunbok slung the rabbit carcass he had been holding back onto the carrying pole-staff, laid Suk-kwon's staff on the ground and picked P'ado up. The boy sighed as he rested on Yunbok's back, arms curled around his neck. "So, what do you think of this trip out to the hills?"

"It was so looooong!" came the tired complaint.

"Too far for you then," he smiled as the boy yawned. "But you did want to come along so you get what you asked for." Silence answered him. He supposed the boy had fallen asleep and shook his head fondly. No doubt the duration and all that trekking was unexpected but he did not think the boy would be deterred from insisting on accompanying him in future. Reaching the courtyard, he called out as he headed for the kitchen. It was answered and doors opened. Iseul looked behind him but saw no one. She supposed the rest were at the creek.

"He's just tired," he said to the anxious query on Jeong-hyang's face when she stepped through the kitchen door. "Master Park and Young-joon are down by the creek with some fresh kills so I'll just take some pots down to store them."

"I've already prepared hot water here and master Park's house. Let me have him so he can be cleaned up, he's so dirty!" she said as he handed a groggy P'ado to her.

"Omoni .. you should have seen the bear," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"Bear? What bear?" Alarm leapt into her eyes as she stared at Yunbok who was collecting a couple of empty pots stacked on the cook-top counter near the wall.

"It scented the fresh meat and followed us but we left him behind at the other side of the creek. No one's hurt," he said reassuringly and exited through the kitchen door and returned to the creek to see Iseul chatting to the other two. Yung-chun was examining the rabbit carcass minutely. "Here're the pots," he said as he went up to them. "Did he leave?" he said for the opposite bank was empty.

"Reluctantly, I might add," Suk-kwon said, washing his hands before untying the packages to place the meat in the pots.

"Brother Han, there's hot water to bathe in master Park house," Yunbok said sympathetically to Young-joon who looked ready to sleep right where he was. He looked as dirty as P'ado with both legs muddy to the thighs.

"Aigooo, that's welcome news! I'll just go and drown myself in it." With a groan, Young-joon pushed himself to his feet, wavering slightly. "And after that, a good nap!"

"Better see that he reaches the house or he might just fall on his face," Suk-kwon said humourously to Yunbok as Young-joon staggered away.

Conceding that he had a point, Yunbok followed after and made sure his friend got to the house without falling down. Suk-kwon and the others were in the courtyard when he returned to his house, discussing, of all things, the type of dishes that could be made with the venision and rabbit. Given that Suk-kwon only knew three dishes, what culinary proficiency could he profess? Feeling hot and uncomfortable, he went to the apt'oe through the kitchen. It was empty so he grabbed fresh clothes from the back room, filled a couple of basins, closed and locked the door and had his bath. The kitchen was still empty when he passed through it later though he could hear Jeong-hyang talking to P'ado in his room. The daecheong was empty as well which was a relief since he had a cloth wound around his unbound hair, still wet from the wash. Sighing, he sat down in the back room, unwound the cloth and spread out his hair to dry. The ache in the injury throbbed as he began to remove the bandage.

"Are you in?" he looked up as Jeong-hyang called softly at the door and got up to unlock it.

"Is he asleep?" he said as he closed it behind her.

"Once I was done," she looked down as a trailing piece of cloth on the floor caught her attention. "Are you injured?!" she exclaimed as she saw the bandage.

"Just a scratch. It's nothing," he insisted as she caught hold of him and pushed him down to sit. "Master Park had a look at it..." he fell silent as she finished what he started and stared at it with anxiety.

"You call this a scratch?!" she pointed to the long gash from knee to ankle. "Stay here and don't move," she ordered and left the room hurriedly.

Really, where did she think he would go? Trying to relieve the itch, he rubbed along the wound as he twisted his leg so he could look at it. It was an angry red and there was pinkish amber liquid seeping through. He supposed he had opened the cut during the journey, perhaps during the run across the creek. The door opened again and she came in with a basin and cloths.

"Ouch, that hurts!" he yelped when she applied a cloth to the wound after wringing it out.

"The wound has opened," she said after examining it closely. "Did you hit the injury again?"

"I don't know ...ouch! I could have, we were rushing to get back here," he said as he recollected their return journey, brushing against bushes as they took short cuts when they could, climbing up and down, leaping across rocks.

"Well, you have aggravated it definitely." she said worriedly, ignoring his low mutterings as she dipped the cloth again in the warm water and cleaned the wound gently. "Stay off the leg for the next few days."

"Hyangya, that's not possible. There are chores and farm work to do!" he protested, wincing at the pain.

"Fine, then let master Park deal with the heavier loads." she said firmly, wishing he would just listen to her.

"Ouch, what are you doing?" he jerked as she squeezed the wound gently.

"There's a little pus here I think, I have to remove it just to be sure. Stop moving around."

To his relief, she stopped after a while, wrung out the cloth for a final time and wiped his lower leg before getting up to remove some bandages from the bandaji. The wound throbbed softly as he examined it.

"What kind of water is that?" he said as he peered into the basin. "It's yellow."

"Herbs and honey," she said, patting the wound dry before applying a fresh bandage spread with honey. "Are you feeling feverish?"

"No, just tired," he sighed as he lay down. "We found master Park just before night fall yesterday. He has a very nice retreat, almost a sanctuary for birds. You should have been there this morning, it was like all the birds in the world have gathered in that one place. He built a sort of house up in the trees too, just so he can be closer to the birds."

"A house in the trees?!" she stared incredulously at him. "Did you see this house?"

"No, we didn't have the time." he sat up as she cleaned her hands on a fresh damp cloth and prodded at him, indicating she wanted to do his hair. "He told us the story between him and that woman, Hyun-ok." He repeated the tale to her. "Did she come again?"

"Yes, she did. In the morning. But she said she will try one more time tomorrow," she said sadly, thinking of what he had told her. "I think it will be her last attempt in whatever she intended."

"I hope she succeeds, master Park need closure," he said, taking the manggeon she handed to him and bound it around his head. "Did anything else happen?"

"Old master Han came by," she related to him the visit and what had been discussed.

"Fancy Iseul being able to figure out who I am from so little," he fingered his false moustache, absent-mindedly checking it was secured. "Su-dae is not going to repeat her mistake again, do you think?" he sighed when she shook her head. "I don't think so too. She won't ever forget what she had done," he frowned. "It's incredible to think this master Um is possibly the uncle you remember."

"I really want to meet him. To see if he is ajoshi Heo but...," she pleated the cloth of her chima.

"If the heavens wills it, you will see him," he touched her hand to comfort her. "Have faith."

"I suppose," there was little hope in her.

"Hyangya, we will see what tomorrow brings," he leaned towards her, gathering her close and feeling her answering hug. Even though they were only apart for a day, neither was used to a separation that had not occurred for quite some time.

"Aren't you tired?" she pushed him away to tap his nose playfully when he began to nuzzle her neck.

"Now that you mention it," he turned away and lay down. "I don't even have to guess what's for dinner. Just don't let master Park make the soup...," his voice trailed off.

"What soup?" she said but there was no answer. Smiling fondly, she trailed a finger over his face as he slept then threw the quilt over him. She collected the basin and cloths and exited the room quietly to find Iseul and Yung-chun in the kitchen, debating what dish to prepare with the venison. It was pointless debating it, why not see what other ingredients was available, she pointed out. In the end, they settled on preparing ssam, cutting out a suitable portion before sending the rest to haraboji Yoo and the village elders.

That night, revived by their nap, the adventurers were in better spirits to enjoy the dinner. P'ado regaled the women with what he had seen, especially expounding in detail about the bear. At the end of the meal, Young-joon declared he had eaten a fine dinner and thanked the cooks. He couldn't resist voising his relief that the soup was more palatable than some he could name of and was promptly embroiled in a debate with Suk-kwon as the women listened in amusement. The argument was carried out to the porch as the men left the daecheong so the women could have their dinner. Yunbok saw P'ado to his room for he could tell the boy was exhausted. Rather than resist, P'ado was willing to roll into his bedding and fell asleep almost at once.

Although he was tempted to do likewise, Yunbok walked out to the porch to listen to the debate which had changed to the subject of falling asleep in the tub at the expanse of the host. Apparently, his friend had drowsed off and caused no end of annoyance and anxiety to Suk-kwon who had waited and fretted outside the kitchen. He had to resort to shouts and much banging of the door and was contemplating breaking it down when Young-joon finally answered. In the buff. Yunbok hid a grin at Suk-kwon's mock indignation as his friend's face turned red. The topic was dropped when the women came out to join them. Catching Jeong-hyang's eye, Yunbok excused himself and walked with her down to the creek.

"I've been thinking," he said quietly as they passed the woodyard.

"What about?" she reached out for the hand he offered to her. It was quite dark for they had not taken along a chorong but there was just enough light from the moon for them to see where they were going.

"You could visit master Um without saying too much about me," he paused a moment to make sure there was nothing in front of them. "If he is this ajoshi Heo, just reunite with him."

"Have you forgotten? Iseul said he saw me the night we walked her back to the gibang, that means he has seen you too," she reminded him.

"Just say I've gone off on business or something," he grasped her hand tightly to ensure she did not fall as they walked down the slope to the creek.

"I don't think it's going to be as easy as eating dubu," she said doubtfully. "There is so much at stake."

"Hyangya, unlike the tti that come regularly on their rounds, this is the rarest of opportunity...," he stopped when she pulled his hand.

"Painter, not when he can harm you. I'll not lose you just for the sake of an old family friend," she caught him in a tight grip. "No," she insisted when he was about to protest.

"But is there not a family matter he wants to settle?" he said a moment later.

"What can it be when my father has passed away? Painter!" she caught hold of his face to stare into his eyes of which she could see dimly. "Let it go."

"Can you, truly?" he saw her sadness. "It matters not that I may be discovered. What is of import to my heart is your happiness."

"It is only a small stone."

"Even a small stone can hobble. Hyangya, let us do this. He has searched for ten years, he will not give up that easily. Fate might even lead his feet to the paper mill. What would you do then?"

"I wish ...," she stopped.

"I know but let us take the initiative while it is still open to us," he said. "Control the situation before it is taken away."

The murmur of the water was barely audible but soothing. He felt some her tension easing slightly as she considered the suggestion. If all went well, the murky questions regard her own family would be answered and settled. Further discussion would be needed with Suk-kwon. His master would surely try to dissuade them but if it did not turn out well, at least the boy would have someone to look after him. They had a good life these several years, he could ask for no more. Something pungent drifted to his nose as he contemplated the gleaming water.

"Do you smell that?" she said, puzzled by the strange odor.

"Stay still," he held her as she made to turn to peer around, seeking the source. Now they could both hear the soft snuffling and thumping of something heavy moving near them. "Whatever you do, do not scream or make any sudden movement," he murmured as he strained to see what it was to confirm his suspicion.

"What is it?" she whispered, turning her head slowly towards the sound as it moved around.

"I think it's the bear. Looking for the meat." Various options came to mind, none of which offered a viable solution out of their predicament. "If it attacks, run up to the house at the first opportunity while I distract it."

"No." Fearfully, she gripped his jacket steadfastly. Injuries inflicted by an angry bear would be horrendous and she was not going to let him take the brunt of it.

"Hyangya, I'll just lead it on a chase, nothing will happen," he said persuasively, tensing as the shuffles became alarmingly louder as the bear roved about.

"No," she stiffened as she imagined the bear leaping on them.

No help for it then. He grabbed hold of her waist, intending to shove her out of the way if the bear pounced. Hoping he would have the time to do that. As if guessing his intentions, she twisted her fingers into the folds of his jacket. A loud snort froze them. The bear sniffed, rumbling audibly. Where was the scent? It was strongest near the water before fading away into nothing. It waffled uncertainly, there was the strange smell of those large animals again. It sat down, licking its paws and smelt the air inquiringly. Rumbling in disappointment, it got up and wandered back to the stone path crossing and returned to the hills, leaving two vastly relieved people behind.

They stood for a long moment, unable to believe their fortunate escape. "Do you suppose it will come back?" she said weakly, heart still racing from the scare.

"I hope not. It's fortunate master Park had the meat stored in the pots immediately when we reached here. If we had carried it all the way to the house," he shook his head as he imagined the bear breaking in and the chaos that would ensued. For certain, someone would be injured or even killed. "Come, let's go back."

The others were still chatting away when they reached the porch and were astonished to hear of their encounter with the bear. It might returned again, just to see if it could find the scent of the meat. So the first thing they would have to do was to remove the odor of blood it had been following. A general dispensing of vinegar on both banks of the creek and along the trail to the hills would do the trick. The talk shifted to the forthcoming Chuseok, if the women at the village won the weaving competition, a huge feast was expected. Certainly, he must attend on that day, Young-joon declared. A deluge of teasing followed. On that note, everyone retired for the night.

"Can you stay off the weeding of the fields tomorrow?" she said as she combed her hair, eyeing him anxiously in the mirror.

"It should be fine, don't worry. It's only till the afternoon, not the entire day," he knew she was worried about his leg but since there was no pain, he did not think there would be any problems. "In several more days the rice will be harvested, hands are needed to make certain of a good harvest."

"If there is the slightest...," she persisted, knowing he tend to dismiss discomforts.

"Hyangya, I promise I will scream and shout if I feel the slightest twinge," he shied away in mock fear from the hand she raised. "All right, all right, I will tell you if I feel any pain." he grinned as he caught her hand and pulled her over to the bedding. "It was cold last night. Do you know what I miss?"

"No," she lied.

"No?" he pulled her closer.

Her breath caught. "Why don't you show me?"

* * *

**Korean Words**

_manggeon - horse hair headband_


	8. Chapter 8

**Cheoseo 1787 (14th)**

Long before the roosters were roused, the house was already abustled. The tunggyong was lit quickly but the water took a little longer to heat. Washed and dressed, Jeong-hyang prepared the ointment and bandages. After waking Iseul and Chun-yung, she returned to the back room where she roused Yunbok in order to change the dressing. Before he had even opened his eyes, she had the bandage on his leg off. Examining the wound under the light, she was relieved to note that it was closing. Knowing a thick dressing might do more harm than good, she tried to ensure the wound was well protected. Satisfied, she hurried to the kitchen.

With Iseul and Chun-yung helping, the morning meal was prepared quickly. A yawning P'ado sleepwalked his way through his ablution and breakfasted before he went down to the village with Yunbok, past the threshing yard and out to the fields where the other workers had gathered. There were cheerful calls from the gathered villagers that Yunbok returned. Chang-su offered him a bowl of makgeolli which he downed gratefully.

Haraboji Yoo walked up briskly from the rice fields, did a quick visual count of the people gathered and nodded to the dure pungjang which struck up a beat, signalling that work was commencing. After the dragon banner was raised, they struck off for the rice fields and were detailed off into groups to work the fields simultanously. P'ado stayed alongside Yunbok in the drained rice field, removing weeds and taking away filled baskets to be emptied. Other children were similarly engaged. The air reverberated to the music of the band, forming a almost hynoptic rhythm.

The sun rose and the day began to warm up a little. Long bouts of cool breeze swept by, bending the heads of the rice plants and drying the sweat of the workers. The children were sent back to the threshing yard to help the women as the rest labored on. Step by agonising step, the fields were gradually denuded of weeds. As the morning drew on, there came the much awaited calls from the band. Time for cham!

Everyone halted and stood, relieving the ache in bent backs before gathering around the women and children who had turned up with drinking bowls and pots. More makgeolli was served as the workers stood and chatted happily, looking across the fields of crops waving in the breeze. Before long, the calls came again and they went back to work. It was backbreaking and arduous, relieved only by the music of the band and the occasional singing.

_"...what kind of side dishes were served at lunch?_  
_Served with one and a half fish from Wonsan, Hamgyeong-do_  
_Rice wine brewed in a liquor jug made in Hapcheon-gun_  
_Poured the wine into the cups like the morning star for my lover and myself..."_

The song only enhanced the hunger pangs as they worked down the length of the fields. Finally, the band called again; lunchtime. It was greeted with a cheer and those who were nearer the thrashing yard made their way to it where the women had prepared the noon meal. For those who were further away, their meals were carried to them on jige. P'ado went up to Jeong-hyang who handed him a bowl heaped with food as Ae-young handed Yunbok a larger bowl similarly filled. To Jeong-hyang's silent inquery, Yunbok shook his head slightly, not inclined to complain of the itch in the wound. After giving him a disbelieving stare, she turned away to serve others. The boribap with yolmu kimchi, vegetables and doenjang were ambrosia. P'ado ate hungrily as Yunbok consumed his more circumspectedly while at the same time, he reminded the boy to drink more water.

The break was longer this time so most took the opportunity for a nap. As the sun past the zenith, it was back to the fields. Just before the end of third watch, Yunbok and P'ado left for home after finishing their section of the field. Haraboji Yoo nodded genially when Yunbok went up to him and gently hinted that he had yet to give his answer to Yoo Jung. At that reminder, Yunbok nearly clapped his head in dismay. He had totally forgotten about the proposed betrothal! Uncomfortably, he could only say he would give an answer as soon as some matters were settled. Haraboji Yoo had to be satisfied with that.

When they reached the courtyard of the house, Yunbok was not surprised to see Suk-kwon talking to Hyun-ok. Neither of them was looking distressed. All was well. He called out at the porch and chevied P'ado to wash up before the boy could decide he would rather take a nap. There was no sign of Iseul, Chun-yung or Young-joon. Presumedly, thay had left for Uiryeong. Jeong-hyang practically pounced on him when they stepped into the kitchen, reinforcing his directive to the boy by telling him to wash his hair as well before pulling Yunbok to the daecheong where she had readied the cleansing materials.

"Iseul and Young-joon have gone back?" he said weakly as she removed the dressing. "Really, there is no pain," he said to a withering look from her.

"Hmmm," was all she said. The wound was dry, she was pleased to note.

"There, see, what did I tell you," he peered at his leg cheerfully, stifling the temptation to scratch. If it itched, he supposed it was healing well.

"I would kill you twice over if it were otherwise," she threatened as she slathered a fresh layer of honey and applying a fresh bandage.

"That is very cruel. I'd rather the wound kill me than meet your knife," he joked.

"Even then, I'll still make sure of it. So that makes it a double kill."

"Who could ever guess such evil lies behind that beautiful face, " he moaned and jumped when she pulled sharply at the bandage. Just then the front door opened and Suk-kwon came in. Judging from his downcast face, it had not gone well. "Is something wrong, master?" he said as the older man sat down with a heavy thump.

"No, it went fine. We'll keep in touch. It's just that," Suk-kwon sighed and figured a small stack of letters bound with a silk thread in his hands. "She came to give me letters that Mi-gyeong had written. Letters she did not send." He turned the stack over and over in his hands, lost in memory. "She did not have much learning but she knew how to write. I suppose she felt her efforts were not good enough for my eyes."

"Hyun-ok kept the letters? She thought she would be able to hand them over to you some day then," Jeong-hyang said softly.

"It was a slim chance she would run into me again but she said she wanted to make amends for her disastrous mistake, as little as it is, so she held on to them." Considering that he had threatened to kill her that day, he would have expected her not to dare come anywhere near him. Much less to hand over something that could possibly rouse his fury again.

"Are you going to read them?" It did not look like he had opened any of the letters and Yunbok wondered if he would. Surely it would be painful to read messages from someone long dead.

"Perhaps," Suk-kwon hesitated. "Not now, maybe later. Anyways, did you say you have something to discuss with me?" he changed the subject and looked at Yunbok.

"You are not going to like it," warned Yunbok before revealing his plan of meeting master Um.

For a moment Suk-kwon said nothing. Since Yunbok had gone ahead to tell him, it meant they had already made up their minds. It was pointless to argue, thus he tried to think of a better way to facilitate the reunion.

"You do have a point that by taking the initiative, control of the situation is in your hands," he conceded. "The meeting has to be at a remote area," he said.

"Where are you suggesting?"

"I'll send one of my men with a letter..," he paused when Yunbok shook his head.

"No, I'll send it myself. I am her partner, " Yunbok said wryly, "I have the right question his identity, his intentions. He will not be suspicious."

"If that is what you want," Suk-kwon reluctantly concurred. "As for the meeting place, the Gunbul tavern along the south-eastern main road two days after the auction."

"That is good enough," Yunbok nodded. Not too far or too near. Men could be posted to keep watch on any suspicious movements. "l will send the letter today. If he is there, we can have a talk."

"He might not be. He's been scouring the town these couple of days, according to old master Han," revealed Suk-kwon. "The troupe is still at the jangsi jumak. There are two who seem to be particularly close to this master Um, a young man and a girl. They are probably be his family so if he isn't there, you can hand the letter over to them."

"I'll do so. I'm done here?" Yunbok looked to Jeong-hyang who nodded so he got up and went to the aptoe.

"I'd better write that letter," she said. "As short as possible?" she smiled at Suk-kwon before gathering up the cleaning materials and went to the kitchen. The older man was gone when she returned to the daecheong. Seating herself at the desk, she prepared the paper and ink. How should she write it? Not knowing if this master Um was ajoshi Heo, she could not be too familiar. Business then, she decided and started in. By the time she was done, Yunbok was not back yet from his bath so she went to the back room to prepare his clothes.

"Nervous?" he said when he finally appeared, closing the door behind him.

"A little," she began to dry his hair more thoroughly once he had sat down. "If this master Um is not ajoshi Heo, I wonder who is he?"

"Someone who might be doing your father a favour?" After checking his toes that they were dry, he put on his beoseon and haengjeon. "If it is so, he must owe your father a great deal to have persevered for so long."

"It would have been a blood debt," she combed his hair slowly, deep in thought.

"We'll soon know." Taking the comb from her, he gathered and pulled his hair up before twisting it into a sangtu, inserted the donggot and then the manggeon. "P'ado's asleep," he tied on the jumeoni as she held out the durumagi, handing him the sadae after. "I'll be back soon," he said as she put the gat on his head. "It shouldn't take long," he picked up the jwilbuchae from the top of the bandaji and turned towards the door. "Oh, the letter?" he remembered and held out his hand. "Hyangya," he chided as she hesitated.

"I'm still not completely sure this is right," she confessed as she gave it to him, feeling that she had committed herself to a momentous course.

"It'll be fine," he pulled her into a hug. "Stop worrying over it. Better get ready for the dinner while I'm gone."

To his surprise, Suk-kwon was waiting for them at the courtyard when they stepped out of the house. He would playing the part of a stranger to Yunbok for he wished to take a look at the troupe and scooped local gossips and opinions. It was a prudent plan so they set off for the jansi jumak, winding their way south-east once they were out of the village.

As they walked along, Suk-kwon filled Yunbok in on what he had learnt from his visit to his old friend that morning. Master Um had paid another visit to the faction agent. Probably to report his failure to find any information. At the rate he was going, it would soon be obvious there might be nothing to be found. Still, old master Han was taking precautions and had advised his men to be extra vigilant. Another development that had taken place was that this Chung seemed to have taken an interest in the girl under master Um's charge. He had words with her the night before, took a room and had returned to town in the morning.

"How did he come to know her?" asked Yunbok.

"Ran into her and master Um while they were in town. She didn't seem keen on him," Suk-kwon glanced ahead, they were nearing the jangsi. "He might not be in, he's been spending most of the day turning the town upside down," he looked meaningfully at Yunbok. "I'll tarry here a moment, you go ahead."

Without a word, Yunbok increased his stride, leaving Suk-kwon behind who pretended to be adjusting his jipsin. As it was not market day, the path was deserted. As he came into sight of the jangsi, he could see the tavern buildings. The stables were half occupied and there were a few people moving about with several standing or sitting nearby. Part of the troupe perhaps for he could see a trio of performers with tal on their faces. Practising, no doubt. Should he start with them?

He turned into the courtyard and rounded the corner to the dining site. A few men were having drinks and a meal. Where was the tavernkeeper? A middle-age woman bustled out from the building, presumably the kitchen, a wine jug in hand which she placed before a customer. Waylaying her before she could disappear, he made his query. In answer, she pointed to the corridor of the tavern accomodations. Third door from the end. Would he be wanting a room or a meal? Smiling, he shook his head and thanked her, making his way to the rooms. Behind him, Suk-kwon marched in and sat down, calling for a drink.

Third door from the end, he counted and stopped. Would master Um be in? Just as he was about to step on the seomdol, there was a muffled sound. It was pitched high for a moment, as if a woman had suddenly cried out, before the sound was cut off. Puzzled, he looked about. Further down were the last two rooms and beyond, an outhouse and a wall. Immediately to his left was another guest lodging. Frowning, he walked to the last room and stood at the corner. The wall ran along the other side of the lodgings and likely turned at some point to run past the stables. A muffled yelp. It came from behind the outhouse.

"What do you think you are doing?" he said sharply as he rounded the outhouse to see a man pinning a girl against the wall, his hand on her mouth.

"I ...," the man yelped as he was kicked on his shin. "I only wanted to talk to her."

"There are better places to talk," Yunbok said dryly.

"What is it to you?" the man released the girl who pushed past furiously. "Wait, let me explain," he said as he made to catch hold of her arm.

"This is impertinent, sir!" she flunged off his hand, face red from her exertions and her anger. "Stay away from me," she backed away.

"You never gave me a chance so what was I to do?" the man exclaimed, moving towards her and stopped when she quickly stepped around Yunbok. Despite his attempts to speak directly to her, she kept Yunbok between them. Out of patience, the man said angrily to him. "Will you remove yourself?"

"The lady does not desire your attentions so perhaps you should desist," Yunbok returned politely.

"She desists because she has yet to listen to what I want to say and you are stopping me!" the man tried to intimidate Yunbok's poise, squaring his shoulders and looking down on him but since they were of equal height, the attempt failed dismally despite his heavier frame.

"If your intentions are honorable, perhaps you should try on another day?" Yunbok suggested.

"I will not entertain them even then," came the girl's voice behind him.

"I admit my action is wrong but I am sincere in my intentions!" The emotional overtones was so intense that Yunbok wondered if the man's passions had gone to his head. "Please," he tried to look around Yunbok again.

"Even if you go down on your knees for a day and a night to beg, still, I will not relent," there was finality in her voice. "Any proposals from you is inimical."

"No, please, you are the only one for me!" the man tried to lunge for her even as Yunbok struck down his arm with his jwilbuchae, amazed by what he heard. Angry red began to mottle the man's face. "Why are you even interfering? It has nothing to do with you!"

"To move the heart of a woman, is never to ask sungnyung from a well," Yunbok watched the man's face and hands, moving away from the girl. "Embody the sagunja and even the heavens will be touched."

"You presumed to teach me?!" the man's eyes bulged. Disbelief warred with fury. Fueled further by the girl's resistance and declaration that his aspiration was a lost cause, he looked ready to explode.

"I am only stating a fact," Yunbok dodged easily when the man suddenly threw a punch at him. Then another and another. His opponent was no martial opponent apparently, punching was probably all that he knew so Yunbok did not try any moves on him but merely let him swung as he pleased.

"Coward! Stand and fight!" the man said angrily after a while, out of breath to even shout.

"That will not be wise," observed Yunbok, knowing the man would take it in the wrong way.

"Because you know you'll get it from me!" the man swung again and stumbled, hands reaching to the ground as he nearly fell. It was a ploy. As he straightened, a shower of soil was flung at Yunbok as he sought to blind him. Having seen his grabbing action, Yunbok ducked out of the way. The foolish fellow rushed him, thinking he had succeeded. The man was asking for it so Yunbok threw him easily. He landed heavily, gat knocked askew as he lay stunned on the ground.

"Sir, go home," advised Yunbok. "If you are true, find honesty and sincerity within to win her over or better yet, you should approach her family."

"I'll remember this," the man panted, getting to his feet painfully and slowly walked away.

Of that, Yunbok had no doubt. If they ever crossed paths again, perhaps the man might find a way to make trouble for him. For now, his intentions was obstructed. He would try again, that was certain. But that was none of his problem. If the girl was wise, she would alert her family. He turned and saw her watching him curiously. Hesitating for a moment, he bowed and made to return to his interrupted task.

"Is there nothing you would say, sir?" she said, surprised that he would simply leave without a word to her.

"I presumed your family is nearby," he considered for a moment. "But I would ask if you are putting up at this tavern or passing through?"

"What if I say I'm passing through?"

"Then I wish you a safe journey, mistress," he turned away.

"I'm putting up at this tavern," she said quickly, to forestall his leaving. "Is it important?"

"Then I will not need to escort you home," he smiled and made his way back to the corridor as she followed, a little put out by his answer. Removing his shoes at the seomdol, he stepped up to the door and halted when she spoke again.

"But you have escorted me home, sir," she laughed at his surprise. "Have you come looking for ajoshi? He is not in."

"I see. Is your uncle master Um?" At her nod, he reached into his coat. "I have a letter for him. Please, give this this to him."

"Who is it from?"

"It depends," he saw her incomprehension. "It's a matter that has to be discussed. My thanks for your trouble," he bowed.

"How should I address you, sir? What if he wishes to contact you again?" she said.

"I'm Seo. There is no need for further contact, all is explained in the letter. Mistress," he bowed again, put on his shoes and made his way out to the dining area as she watched him. The door opened at this point and her brother peered out.

"Who were you talking to?" he said and craned his head to see what she was observing with such interest. "That's not Chung." The figure was slight, not as heavyset as the other man whom he had taken the opportunity to scrutinise that morning. There was no answer and he turned to see a dreamy look in her eyes. "Aigoo, what got into you? Whose letter is that?"

"Oppa, are you deaf? Didn't you hear my cry for help?" she pushed past him into the room instead of answering his questions.

"Why?" he blinked, closing the door behind him.

"That obnoxious man cornered me at the outhouse. It's too late," she added as he turned back to the door, "he has already left, thanks to master Seo."

"That fellow walking away?"

"He came here to see ajoshi and interrupted that man before it went too far," she placed the letter carefully on the bandaji, wedging it under the stack of bedding.

"What was he trying to do?"

"Trying to get me to listen to his proposal. He's so thickheaded, he can't seem to understand a rejection when he hears it," she lightly tapped the letter as he watched with amusement.

"Master Seo seems to have made an impression," he lit his tambattae. "From the back of him, he does not look like much."

"You'll be surprised," she sat down. "He does look frail but very dark, like he spends most of his time out in the sun."

"A farmer?"

"He looks like one but he doesn't talk or behave as such," she trailed off again and he waited. Was she besotted? He waved his hand before her face.

"Have you fallen for him?!" he exclaimed.

"Don't be silly," she scolded, red faced. "I just find his accent intriguing."

"How so?" he prodded as she fell silent again and decided to leave off the questioning for he knew her when she became immerse in a puzzle. She would tell him what he wanted to know eventually.

"He's from Hanseong," she said suddenly, startling him.

"So he's from the capital, what's so strange? You're not going to open that surely?" he said as she went over to the letter. "I heard what he said. If you want to see him again, you will just have to wait for ajoshi."

"I so dislike waiting to unravel a mystery," she sighed, leaving the letter where it was. Hopefully, ajoshi would return long before she died of curiosity.

* * *

**Uiryeong gibang**

On her return to the gibang, Iseul summoned In-seon at once. The woman's anxiety was evident in her immediate response. She waved the other woman to silence before she could speak and picked up the parchment lying on her desk. A list of guests and proposed preparations, clearly left there for her by In-seon. Most of the notable merchants of the town had been invited, she saw. Even the magistrate and scholar officials. Of the latter, she doubted any would turn up. The venue of the auction was not an ideal setting where they would want to be seen at or even patronized.

"What do you have to say?" she said finally when she had finished perusing the list.

"I accepted the deal because the auction of a painting by a famous painter will attract many patrons and provide many opportunities," said In-seon in a placating and persuasive tone. "The painter himself vouched to pay for half the food and drinks."

"What happens if he cannot do so? Are you willing to take it up on his behalf?"

"The painting will fetch a fortune," In-seon said confidently.

"Why do you say so? Is the painting genuine?" Iseul wondered why In-seon was so certain. While she had some experience in investments and gambling, In-seon had but passing acquaintance with paintings. Her ability to sooth frayed tempers, an adequate grasp in maintaining the gibang operations and her seniority among the gisaengs had been the reason she had been chosen as an assistant. Now she wished she had selected some one else.

"It is rumored master Chung is Hyewon," In-seon leaned in to whisper, as if the secret was of outmost importance. "He did not deny it," she said when she saw Iseul's skepticism. "I would not have dared to make such a decision if the painting had not been verified as the true work of the painter."

Iseul allowed her face to show a sprinkle of amazement lanced with doubt although what she wanted most was to laugh. How could such a fool as Chung be Hyewon? Anyone with any keen discernment of Hyewon's paintings would know that. "Is that what everyone is saying of him?"

"Ever since word of the auction spread," In-seon nodded. "Not everyone believe it but his paintings have been selling very well."

"I see," Iseul pretended to think. If rumors about his origins were already spreading, a little more spicing would increase attention on Chung. "This auction may provide favorable circumstances for us," she said. "However, we may not feast if the dishes are empty." In-seon's brow wrinkled in anxiety.

"But...," she began to protest, she was sure it would not turn out that way.

Iseul held up the paper for In-seon to read. "Payment in full after the auction. If he changes his mind and there is no auction, we have to pay. If something goes wrong with the auction or he changes the venue, we still have to pay. The order for food and drinks from the jumak, wineshops and marketplace is in our name, not his. You did not even check? This is not like you. What did he promise you?"

"Two hundred nyang," In-seon mumbled. "And the promise of a painting after."

"Gotgam is sweet to eat but of the moment," Iseul sighed. The prospect of easy money had been to much for In-seon. "I expect better." _Of you_. In-seon flushed, knowing the rebuke was justified. "If this falls through, tell the rest to expect a gye."

The relief from In-seon was palpable for a moment before she turned gloomy at the thought of the acrimony from the rest of her colleagues at having to contribute for her avarice but it was hardly a sum she was willing to pay herself. The best that she could hope for was for the auction to be a success and that master Chung would honor the agreement. At Iseul's nod of dimissal, she hurried out of the house to the gibang, hoping the man she wanted to see was around. To her disappointment, no one had seen him. Was he making preparations for the morrow? She hoped it was so.

Turning back to the papers before her, Iseul wondered if she should make changes. The display of the painting was to be at the pavilion with the most important guests seated in ranking order. Such and such, onwards out to the merchants. Should she make alterations? If they could not get to the painting before the auction, the approach would have to be in the open. She frowned.

"Mistress?" she jumped when Yung-chun spoke, so deep in thought she had not heard the maid's approach. "Master Park is asking to speak with you."

"Oh, invite him in," she said and got up to move to the entrance to greet Suk-kwon.

"Ah! Mistress, it has been a long time!" the heartiness of his voice was unexpected and she stiffened in shock when he pulled her towards him when he saw her standing at the door. "It has been months since we get together!" he laughed as he put his face near hers. "Play up!" he whispered, whereupon she promptly slapped him. Hard.

"Unhand me, sir!" she said with a smile, wondering who could be listening and watching them. It was not the usual behaviour for her and she frowned a warning at him in passing.

"Tsk, what a harridan," he grumbled, rubbing his face. Did she have to put so much strength into it? "At least I got a rise out of you," he plaint as loudly as he dared as she pulled him further into the house and shut the door behind him.

"Refreshments," she said to a open-mouthed Yung-chun who hastily moved to the kitchen. About to invite him to seat himself at the pangsok before her desk, she found her sleeve held to halt her. He mimed silently that they should not sit too far apart. "What brought you here?" she said, sitting down next to him, peering at the door. There could not possibly be anyone standing right outside, could there? They would be kenspeckled to those at the back of the gibang.

"I came to town on some business and decided to drop by. I miss you," he leaned in towards her. "Do you know that the rumors are spreading like fire? What ..," he froze when he heard footsteps from the kitchen and grabbed hold of Iseul's hand. "I bought a gift for you," he said, reaching into his coat and dropping a pendant into her palm, subtly nudging her arm even as she tried to prevent her annoyance from showing.

"Spend the night at Hyeja's, Yung-chun," Iseul ignored the shock on the maid's face. "Come back in the morning." Perhaps it wasn't necessary to add that, she knew but she hoped the maid would think she was being cautious in her supposed eagerness to spend the night with someone. The need for such subterfuge was increasing her irascibility .

"Yes, mistress," Yung-chun threw another look of amazement at Suk-kwon as she made her way out. Of the few rare times she had gone to the paper mill with Iseul, there was no indication that her mistress was interested in this man. Their interaction had been as bland as water. When had it started? Why did she not know? Her mistress had her few secretive moments, she knew. Maybe she was too obtuse to notice what was going on.

"That was well done," Iseul hissed to Suk-kwon once Yung-chun was gone. "Now ...," she stopped when he clapped a hand over her mouth. What was it? "You're being overly cautious, sir," she slapped his hand away after a moment, annoyed with his assumed familarity, even if there was a need for it.

"I wish it was so," he mumbled, almost inaudibly. "I spotted a couple of blackguards out there, checking out the place and trying to find out what they can, no doubt."

"So..," she blinked as he swiftly pinched out the flame of the candle on her desk, plunging the room into darkness.

"Make some noise," he whispered. "Someone's outside."

Why her and not him? Noise? She opted to talk instead, feeling her ears burning with embarrassment as she pretended passion she did not feel and speaking so, sitting in the darkness next to a fellow who was more interested in what was going on outside. It was improbable that her supposed partner should stay silent so she nudged him and nearly laughed at the effort he tried to make. He sounded more of a demotic audience at a poetry competition. She pinched his arm hard.

"Ouch!" he yelped at the unexpected pain. "What did you do that for?"

"Pay attention to what you're doing. Are we reciting the classics?"

"What?"

"Ohh, hopeless, hopeless! Months you said and this is the best you can do?! Limp excuses! Can't you sit up like a man?"

He spluttered in indignation as she struggled to hold in her laughter but his attention was drawn elsewhere even as he formed a retort. Lightly tapping her on the arm, he whispered to her to look at the top f the wall, near the ceiling above her desk. There were shadows, formed by light from the gibang, she realised, thrown into sharp relief through the kyochang. A couple of them were moving away.

"I don't think there are any others but to be safe," he leaned towards her. "Anyone visiting you will be scrutinised closely."

"Yes but you are too baroque! Everyone here knows I don't have a swain."

"So I'm a rusty tool that you tripped over recently," he said cheerfully as she clapped a hand to her brow in exasperation. "Just say I was drunk or I was having a joke at your expense."

"You are the one who put out the candle and asked me to give the impression that ..," she gave up, dropping the subject as a pointless exercise. "So, everyone here is under watch?"

"Indeed," he heard her drew in a sharp breath at that unwelcome news. "Have you come up with an idea for the painting?"

"If your men failed to acquire the painting, the only way to get to it is during the auction. The seating arrangements makes it difficult."

"Is the auction by invitation only? What about the rest of the regular patrons?"

"The contract only stipulates the use of the gibang and payment for food and drink," she said slowly. "I do not see how the rest of the town could stay their curiosity. The magistrate could not be oblivious to this."

"If you are worried that he would stop the auction, he won't. But it is inevitable that he has to lay the matter at someone's feet once the issue gets out of hand."

"Chung? But we are also responsible for accepting the contract in the first place."

"Yes, but Chung will shoulder most of the blame," he shifted nearer. "Issue chits to regular patrons and sell a certain number to whoever is interested. The proceeds you get will just tide you over the fine."

"But what about the rest?" she protested. If they were resorting to the latter plan, it followed that the gibang would suffer damage.

"It has been taken care of," he said and gave a sudden loud grunt, startling her. "What about drinks?" he said loudly. There was a rustle as he lay himself on the floor. "Lie down," he urged. "Look up."

"You want ..." She did as he asked and hastily followed his example, keeping silent when he pulled her closer.

For a long moment, they held their tongues, eyes fixed on the moving shadows that became larger. A faint creaking of wood. Someone was at the porch, stepping about quietly. Whoever it was could not possibly be looking in through the kyochang, she felt. It was too dark in the room, what was there to see? Even if the person did manage to make out objects in the room, he would only see a "sleeping" couple. Another long moment, it seemed to her the person was hovering at the porch before faint creaks heralded the person's departure. Could it possibly be Yung-chun sneaking back to find out if she was truly spending the night with a lover?

"I don't think that was any of the blackguards you saw," she whispered but he did not answer. Had he fallen asleep? "Do you hear me?"

"Drinks."

"What?" He wanted wine now? Irritation rose in her.

"It's in the drink!" he laughed, sat up and turned to her. "Who can resist it?"

* * *

The heat from the bowl smoldered. The steam rose lazily, casting a visible haze in the air as it dispersed an aroma only to be lost in the myriad of bouquets. Wave after wave reached into the air before the bowl cooled but he did not notice as master Um sipped at his drink, staring blankly at the table. The cup was empty. His hand reached out for the bottle to fill it and he resumed his drinking motions and the ullage in the bottle gradually vanished. It was when nothing slipped out of it whe he tried to fill the cup that he realised it was empty. The cold food was regarded with disinterest but he picked up the spoon nevertheless. He could not afford to fall down drunk on his way back. The gukbap was rapidly consumed and he got to his feet. Time to move on.

The murmur of conversations rumbled around him with intense excitement but he paid it no mind. After paying the tavernkeeper, he made his way to the eastern gates. As he walked along, the streets seemed to thrum to the same enthusiasm but it touched him not. Shoulders drooping with tiredness, he walked on, stopping when familiar music and noises filtered into his consciousness. He halted, weariness warring with desire and turned about, annoyed that he had automatically headed there. It was foolish to drag it on. Behind him, a pair of eyes watched his abrupt departure sadly.

The night was chilly and he shivered as he passed through the eastern gates. For two days, he had been roaming the about the shops, the marketplace, the minchon, the paths along the residences, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone eerily familiar. From one end to the other end to no avail. It was still early days, he should not give up and yet, this weariness seemed to weigh on him. Sighing heavily, he pressed on. Another day. He would spend another day in town before turning to the villages around Uiryeong. The young man with her did not seem very wealthy or very poor.

Their clothing was of good cloth and they did not look in need of want. A clear sign they got by moderately. The shops were the first places he checked on, thinking they might be running one but there was no sign of them. He even looked into the the few craft shops and jumak but turned up nothing. He could not rule out the young man might be working as a servant though that seemed very unlikely. That left the villages.

The lights from the jangsi jumak were a welcoming sight and he turned into the courtyard with a sigh of relief. It would be a lonely night. He wished she was there waiting for him as he made his way to the room. He called out for a moment at the door and was startled when it opened with more than usual force even as he reached for it.

"Ajoshi, you didn't come back in the afternoon!" His niece's accusatory tone surprised him.

"Are you waiting for me?" he said, closing the door. "It must be important."

"Boiling like juk she was, the entire afternoon," the young man said lazily, scrapping out the dottle from the bowl of his tambattae with a chim.

"Here, ajoshi, a letter for you," she flourished it before him and waited eagerly as he perused the writing on the envelope.

He did not recognise the fine script. A woman's handwriting? "Who gave this to you?"

"A master Seo," she said impateintly. "He came by to see you in the afternoon.

"Master Seo?" a little glimmer of hope flared within. Did those two women speak of him to them? "Describe him," he looked to the young man.

"I was not the one who spoke to him," he said, examining the bowl of the tambattae.

"Dark and lean, speaks like one from Hanseong and a gentleman," she fidgeted, wishing her uncle would just open the envelope.

"She says that because he rescued her from ...," the youg man laughed when she threw him a furious glare.

"I would not have needed rescue were you paying attention."

"You keep saying that, how hard were you really trying to get away?"

Ignoring the bickering, he opened the envelope and drew out the letter.

_Master Um, it has come to my attention that you sought information concerning a person who could be of mutual acquaintance. Come to the Gunbul tavern along the south-eastern main road two days after the painting auction at noon._

It was not signed but the script. Yes, it was a woman's hand. Could it be her? Such was the brilliance of the smile that lit his face that it silenced the two bickering young people who were watching him all the while. They looked at each other in wonder. What was the momentous news that caused so much happiness?

"Ajoshi?" she said tentatively. "Is it good news?" she ignored the snort from her brother.

"Perhaps," he forced down the joy rising in him but it was difficult. He should not allow himself to feel this way for he might face vast disappointment. Carefully, he folded the letter and went over to the bandaji, storing it away in the wooden cabinet. "What did this master Seo do?" he removed his gat and coat, hanging them up neatly.

"He drove off her suitor," the young man brought out his gajukdambaessamji and filled the bowl with tobacco.

"Master Chung is not a suitor," she said angrily. "It's that man we ran into two days ago, ajoshi," she handed him his pipe as he sat down and moved the tunggyong nearer so he could light his pipe.

"He came looking for you?" he frowned. "Why did you not say he is making trouble?"

"Because she thought she could handle it," chortled the young man. "But he waylaid her at the outhouse."

"That's outrageous," Um said angrily. "Did he hurt you?"

"Her gentleman came in the nick of time."

"Oppa, you are getting too much!" she scolded. "You were deaf to my calls for help."

"How loud were you calling?"

"Oppa!"

"Enough," he said, lighting his pipe. "There is one thing you should know," he looked at the girl. "Master Seo is not for you."

"Aigoo, bad news," the young man tried to convey sympathy at the angry look directed his way. "Why do you say that, ajoshi?"

"If he is who I think he is, he is married and he has a son," he smiled.

"I am not leaning in that direction, ajoshi. I just find him interesting," she said, ignoring her brother's chuckles. "Do you know him, ajoshi? He looks like a farmer but he is learned."

"You said he is from Hanseong?"

"He did not say so but I deduce it from his speech. He is not as overbearing as a Yangban but he has the air of a scholar," she said.

Hanseong, cultivated. These only added to his growing belief that she had not disappeared alone. A lover she ran away with once her husband was dead? It seemed very probable to him. Two days from tomorrow. If his hopes come true, then, his heart lightened. Yes, he could hope.

"Ajoshi?" There was that joyous smile again. She wished she knew what was in the letter but knew better than to press.

"There is a place I need to go to, three days from now. You are both coming with me."

* * *

**Korean Words**

_bandaji - chest for clothes/blanket/books/documents_

_boribap - barley and rice_

_beoseon - socks_

_chim - tobacco pipe cleaner_

_dure pungjang - farmers' band_

_durumagi - coat_

_gajukdambaessamji - pouch for carrying tobacco leaves, tinder, flint_

_gat - horse hair hat_

_gye - communal cooperation for various projects_

_haengjeon - gaiters tied on mid-calf_

_jwilbuchae - fan_

_jumeoni - pouch to contain money or personal effecs_

_kyochang - small window at the top of the door_

___makgeolli - thick, unfiltered rice wine_

_sadae - waist cord_

_sangtu - top knot_

_sagunja - the four plants that that represent noble and gracious character traits_

_seomdol - stepping stone to help someone to step onto the porch or house_

_tal - masks_

_tambattae - tobacco pipe_

_yolmu kimchi - kimchi made with young radishes_

_Author note - Lunch was a meal not usually taken by the lower classes/common people. At the most, they would take a snack around noon or sometime later in the day. Lunch would only be taken during harvesting seasons. _


	9. Chapter 9

**Cheoseo 1787**

Headache. He knuckled the throbbing ache that beat at his brow and sat up, groaning as the muscles on his back twinged. Rubbing at the sore spots did not seem to help. Moving slowly, he got to his feet and worked his shoulders and arms before going to the door. Looking out, he spotted the tavern worker and shouted for his morning wash. The young man turned and nodded to show he heard before continuing on his way. Satisfied, he went to the bandaji, wincing as he sat down. What should he wear for the momentous event? A pity he had no silk coat but there was not enough time to have a suitable outfit made.

Rummaging in the bandaji, he picked out the whitest and freshest looking outfit he could find. The jacket, baji and coat were examined minutely. These he put aside before picking up the three jwilbuchae he had. Which was more presentable? As befit his status. It was too bad he could not get any jwilbuchae painted by notable painters. His choice was laid beside the clothes.

"Master Chung, your water."

The tavern worker was deferential as he placed the basin and towel on the floor and ventured a question. Would he prefer to have breakfast in his room? For a moment, Chung entertained the thoughts of basking in the avid interest and awe of admirers but changed his mind. He would prefer a meal in peace and said so. The young man bowed deferentially and withdrew.

Once his ablution was done, he dried his hands carefully. Going to the door, he locked it and looked once around the room before heading to the corner near the guangjang. Running his hands slowly along the wall, he waited for the tiny nick and stopped. Bending to the spot, he squinted and with little flicks of his finger, pried loose a corner of paper. Patiently, he worked at it until a larger triangular area was loosened before he took a firmer hold and pulled. A section of wall paper came off and with it, another piece of paper that had lain beneath fell. He picked it off the floor.

Ah! His money was safe and sound, unblemished. Smiling, he perused the painting. How much would he get for it? Three to four thousand nyang was the best he could hope for. He had heard of six thousand offered elsewhere for other paintings but it was doubtful he would get so much. If he had gone to Hanseong or other bigger towns, he could expect better biddings. But if he had, there wouldn't be rumors going about his identity. With Hyewon purported to be in Gangwon province, he could carry on the pretense. It could only worked in his favour.

He admired the painting with pleasure. How fortunate it was that Hyewon was not prolific in selling his paintings. If he had, their value would not be so high. He wondered what the man himself looked like. A handsome rake as the rumors claimed? Or was he a charmer? Either one would spike much gossips and compliments from gisaeng.

Taking out several pieces of paper from the bandaji, he placed the painting on top and rolled it up, making sure the end result was a slim tube which he fastened with a string. Where should he go once he had the money? It should be a place where he could set up a shop. He put on his usual coat, inserting the tube into his sleeve. Busan? Yes, it should be Busan. With the money, he could perhaps get some footing with one of the merchant guilds and work his way up. He winced as he tied on his gat. Damn that fellow! He fingered the little bump at the back of his head. Just then the tavern worker called and then knocked when he found the door locked. Breakfast was ready.

As he broke fast, he wondered if he should return to the jangsi jumak. What did that fellow say? Ah yes, that he should approach the family. That fella had a point, he concede. If he could persuade the family into accepting his suit, the girl could not say no. She had only an uncle, if he remembered it right. Yes, that was what he would do. After the auction, he should buy a gift and present himself to the uncle to plea his case. The uncle, no doubt, should be at the auction and see for himself that his prospects were ideal.

What should he do about that rude fellow? Some low born farmer he was. The man could dress himself up as he liked but that dark skin of his cried aloud his profession. His teeth clacked loudly as he contemplated what he could do to make life difficult for the farmer. If he knew where that fellow stay, he could send a few hefty men to rough him up, just so for the bruises and indignity he suffered. There was no way that little fellow could take on bigger men. Yes, perhaps he could do that later.

His meal done, he went out to the courtyard, nodding pompously to the calls that heralded his appearance. A few men got up from the table where they were having a round of drinks and went up to him, paying him flattering comments. Where was he heading? Perhaps they could accompany him? On learning he was heading to the gibang, the little group of sycophants was all too pleased and helpfully cleared the way for him as they moved along the streets. Were they hoping he would treat them to a party? They would be in for a disappointment for he had no intention of doing so for they would soon eat him bare. He was not a fool to waste money on them but they had their uses if he strung them along.

The gibang was bustling as usual when they arrived. The sight angered him. Should they not be preparing for the painting auction? Snapping his jwilbuchae closed, he marched in. He would give that yeosa a piece of his mind, he would. However, the number of servants hurrying about at the pavilion halted his angry ruminations. Several patrons were standing about with the gisaeng, talking amongst themselves about the event. Anticipation! The sight mollified him considerably whilst the toadies speculate how grand the event would be.

Pleased, he roamed about to see what arrangements had been made. A large tent had been set up near the pavilion. There were many soban, pots, sujeo and crockery stacked within. Ah, good, preparations for food and drink. Servants bustled to and fro, cleaning and stacking. The gibang yeosa, Iseul was it? Yes, that was her name, was talking to one of the servants. For a moment, he stood and admired the clean lines of her profile. Ah, there was beauty in that fine bone structure. A little remote. If he could but persuade her to accomodate him. He was certain her skills were far above the gisaeng she had charge of. She looked up at that moment and saw him. Instead of coming over as he expected, she turned away. Should she not be discussing the finer points of the auction with him?

Iseul flicked a finger to In-seon hovering nearby. The woman picked it up at once and made her way over to master Chung. Having seen the intensity of his stare, she had no inclination to have any association with him. Whatever changes that had to be made and so forth, she would let In-seon handle it for she herself would prefer to keep her distance from the fellow. Since he had apparently gathered quite a few sycophants, they would make trouble for her if she allowed Chung to corner her. She was glad that Suk-kwon had sent men over to help with the preparations. If there was to be chaos, it would have to be much later. At the appropriate time.

* * *

**Paper mill**

The two eyed each other warily as they circled slowly. The staff flashed out, Yunbok ducked and knocked away the lower end swinging towards him with his sword, stabbing out as he ducked again when the other end swung back. The sword was struck upwards and he tried to twist it inward only to have it forced to the ground. Before the end of the staff could turn on him, he was already lunging sideways and stopped short before his elbow struck.

"How's that?" he said.

"Better," grinned Suk-kwon as he relaxed. "But I can easily kneed you in the process the moment you start in."

"Hmmm, I'll think more about it," Yunbok twirled the wooden sword.

"I can use some help," came a call as Jeong-hyang exited the daecheong, a small figure following her with piles of clothes in their arms. P'ado screwed up his eyes at Suk-kwon as he passed and came to a stop before him.

"What?" Suk-kwon pretended not to know what he wanted.

"You owe me, ajoshi," came the plaintive complaint.

"That's very rude," said the older man and relented when the boy looked even more woebegone. "Very well, come along."

"Let me have those, " Yunbok laid the sword on the table in the courtyard and removed the clothes the boy was carrying. Leaving the two to sort out their problem, he went over to an empty line strung across the courtyard, untied it and began to put up the clothes. "I'm really curious how it will turn out tonight," he said to her.

"Don't even think of sneaking in there," she warned. "We really don't need to stir up further suspicions."

"I know," he shook out a jacket. "It's too bad I'll miss the fun. He said there will be some excitement and I seriously doubt it is as pedestrian as he made it to be," longing in his voice.

"You're as bad as P'ado." It was not that she did not understand his desire to watch the farce, she herself was just as tempted but they could not afford to risk it.

"Perhaps I can borrow the telescope ..," he said brightly as an idea struck him.

"No," she said firmly. "You can hear all that happened from master Park and Young-joon on the morrow," she caught the expression on his face and laughed. "You should see yourself, you looked exactly like P'ado."

"Speaking of which," Yubok turned to see the boy following Suk-kwon to his house. "It looks like his wish is coming true."

"Should we bring him to the meeting?"

"We should. If this master Um is the uncle you remembered. There," the last piece of clothing was strung up. "Are these the last?" he looked at the lines of clothes flapping in the cool wind.

"Yes, some of your books tomorrow. Here," she pulled him over to sit at the porch.

"Still worrying over the incident?" he took her hand.

"Shouldn't I be?" she leaned against him as she spoke contemplatively. "It would have been better if you had not gotten into a physical brawl with Chung. Given what's going to happen tonight, he will recall all the ills that have befallen him here."

"Yes, he will certainly be drawing up a list," he said drolly. "What are the chances he can even find me?"

"What about you running into him at the jangsi jumak?"

"It only goes to show that even dubu may turn up in a bean field," he laughed. "Who knows the gossips of tomorrow will not drive him away? Enough of him," he flicked his fingers dismissively. "Do you remember anyone else from the troupe?"

"Only one: Kim Cheong-soo. I think he was aboji's training partner but it was so long ago," she sighed. "Since the current troupe was formed ten years ago, I don't think any of the original members remained."

"Hmmm," he tried to think of various reasons for a travelling troupe's disbandment. "Was the troupe formed out of need or subterfuge?"

"He can't possibly be working for them back then."

"Back when?" he picked at a bit of scurf on her palm. "When you were a child? You were too young to know anything."

"It's still implausible," she said stubbornly, having no desire to believe the affectionate family friend would turn out differently from her perception.

"It is now," he said. "For a travelling troupe, they are too well funded. How else can they stay for so long at the jumak instead of returning to winter quarters? And they are planning to stay here till spring?"

An excited call forestall her answer. They looked up to see P'ado skipping over the beds of vegetables, waving a stick in his hand as Suk-kwon followed more slowly behind. As the boy ran up to them, they realised it was the staff promised to him.

"Appa, omma, look!" the boy brandished it proudly. It looked more like a cane than a weapon but they did not say so.

"Ah! Let's have a look," Yunbok said, stretching forth his hand to take the stick. Staff, he reminded himself. It was as well made as his own. He ran his hands over the smooth surface before handing it to Jeong-hyang. She inspected it solemnly.

"It is a fine staff," she pronounced, returning it to the boy who turned it over and over in his hands, marveling that it was really his.

"Appa, let's spar!" he said brightly, to Yunbok's amusement.

"No, it's still early yet," interjected Suk-kwon as he approached. "No one begins with sparring."

"What do I begin with?" the boy said, trying not to sound impatient. "How long before ..."

"Everyone begins by building up their strength, their agility, their minds," Suk-kwon took the staff from him. "I promised to teach you to learn to use this, but it will be some time before you will even hit anything with it."

"How long?"

"Why don't you ask aboji?" Suk-kwon gestured to Yunbok.

"Almost a year," Yunbok said as the boy turned his gaze to him and controlled himself with effort at P'ado's look of dismay and horror, feeling Jeong-hyang's stifled response.

"Ajoshi?" P'ado could not hide his disappointment at the confirmation from the older man. "Can it be faster for me?"

"Why? Do you have something important to do with the staff?"

"Er ...," the boy shuffled uncomfortably, wondering if he should say it. "No," he decided not to.

"I have kept my promise, the rest is up to you," Suk-kwon said cheerfully as he sat down beside Yunbok. "Why don't you keep the staff now and come back for your first lesson."

"What are you going to do?" asked Yunbok as the boy went to his room, recalling that his first lesson was wood chopping. "No, he's too young for it," he protested when the older man nodded towards the woodyard.

"Not wood chopping," Suk-kwon chided. "Carrying and stacking the smaller logs. Come winter, he can help with the wood. I know," he said when Jeong-hyang was about to say something. "I won't stress him, I promise. Just a small stack his size will do."

"In that case, I have better double his portions tonight," she said, certain the boy would be hungry by his exertions.

"Don't keep any for me. I'll be busy."

"Will it go smoothly?" There was such an air of unusual pleased expectancy about the older man that Yun-bok did not think it had anything to do with the scheme.

"Oh, yes, yes." Before Yunbok could take him to task for his flippancy, he got to his feet when he saw P'ado returning. "Come along then."

The boy looked in trepidation at the two at the porch as he passed.

"What do you suppose he was pleased about?" Jeong-hyang murmured, keeping her encouraging smile visible before the boy turned out at the gates.

"You notice it too? Strange isn't it? I have never seen him in such ...," Yunbok searched for the right words.

"Contentment? Satisfaction?" she suggested. "Neither of which seem to fit. He went to the gibang last night, didn't he?"

"I don't suppose he...," he looked at her and they chuckled as the same idea struck them at the same time. "It seems unlikely but it's none of our business," he got to his feet. "Time to work on the vegetables. What's for dinner?" he added as she made her way to the kitchen.

"It's a surprise," she threw over her shoulder before she vanished.

* * *

**Uiryeong**

Patting himself down carefully, Young-joon looked over himself again, making sure his clothes were spotless. Sadae, jangdo in the inner pocket. He put on his gat, fingering the gatkken of glass before tying the hat strings. Jwilbuchae. He snapped it open to admire the simple painting of bamboo and read the poem.

_Among those unrelated by family ties_  
_None is as trustworthy as a friend._  
_He points out the errors of my ways._  
_If I had not such a friend,_  
_How could I become a man?_

The fan was a replacement for the one damaged in the fight with the late Hyun-su. Made and painted by his friend. Unsigned of course. A treasure to behold and he had been very reluctant to use it until Yunbok had laughed and chided him for it was not meant to gather dust in his room. Admiring it for a while longer, he closed it and left the room. Old master Han was waiting for him at the daecheong with a man at his side.

"This is Chun-mo," he gestured to the man who bowed. "He will watch out for you."

"Yes, aboji," Young-joon nodded. "I'll be careful."

Ears and eyes opened, old master Han was about to add but did not utter them. Young-joon took his leave and headed for the gates, Chun-mo following dutifully. As they headed out into the streets, it seemed a little less crowded. There were fewer peddlars at the marketplace as they passed it and the jumak were more subdued. The loud murmur of voices that reached their ears before they came within sight of the gibang was no surprise to Young-joon. How could there not be curiosity and a thirst to be first into the gibang with the promise of free food and drinks? When he finally saw the crowd, he could not help but feel daunted. Surely more than half the town was there?

He looked at Chun-mo who cocked his head at him and shook it in lament. The utter stupidity of that fool, Chung, would be his undoing. Young-joon smirked before consternation rose to the fore. How was he to get into the gibang? Reading his concern correctly, Chun-mo began to politely request those before them to make way. Young-joon followed close behind but such was the press of bodies that he began to wonder if they would only reach the gates when it was all over. Just then, there came the sound of a horse and the jingle of harnesses. Those at the edge of the gathering turned to see a troop of constables approaching. The officer on the horse shouted, using his mount to force a path through which the troop marched, with men detaching themselves at intervals to keep the path opened.

Caught in the press, they could not move until Chun-mo addressed the nearest constable. Young-joon showed the invitation before they were let through. The officer, who had dismounted at the gates, examined the invitation and allowed them to enter. The beleaguered gibang gatekeepers who had kept a tight barrier against the crowd parted to let them through before closing the gap quickly to stop those who tried to slip in. Loud were the complaints of broken promises, unfair selection and a variety of other discontentment. Peddlars roved along the fringes, quick to seize advantage by selling drinks and food which in turn fueled more discontent.

As he stood at the entrance, Young-joon surveyed the gibang. The courtyard and the garden were packed with men, outnumbering the gisaeng such that he was hard put to spot a chima. Placed in the spaces not taken up by bodies were large hwamunseok. Servants were mostly congregated around the tent, preparing food and drinks on large soban. To attempt to serve anyone then would be difficult. Once everyone had settled down, there would be some space to move about.

Where should he head? Slowly, he wound around the groups of men, catching bits of conversations as he passed. Most of it were debates on the price of the painting, who would be the biggest bidder. Six thousand was the sum bruited. That had been the astonishing price of the first painting to appear in the north after the painter's absence of several years. Since then, his paintings had been turning up sporadically but none had been sold higher than six thousand nyang. Would anyone in Uiryeong pay that much?

Opinions were conflicted on the authenticity of the painting despite the statements of two respected merchants of the town. Imitators had been getting more and more wily and skillful. Anyone could be caught out, such as master Gang had been a few years ago. Surely he would not make such a mistake again? If old master Han had also given his endorsement, then the painting was authentic. Several felt it was worthwhile to bid.

There was general skepticism about master Chung. His conduct and actions had been the subject of much exposition for they were contrary to popular accounts of Hyewon whose affairs were low key and restricted to the gibang. He might be somewhat of a rake but there were no tales of histronic displays. Was this Chung truly the painter himself? Hyewon was rumored to be a handsome refined fellow. Chung did not fit the image, he looked more of a lout. Perhaps he could be persuaded to display his skills with the brush after the auction? That would truly prove his identity.

Fool, fool. The man's ego had made him too conceited. He had outsmarted himself with this public auction. As Young-joon made his way to the pavilion, he stopped now and then to exchange greetings with business associates who inquired after old master Han. Why was he not attending? He made the appropriate excuses, glad his father did not have to bother himself in running the gauntlet of veiled commentaries.

He caught sight of two familiar figures as he approached the pavilion. Greeting his friends exuberantly, he began a polite but bland conversation as his eyes roved over the guests nearby and recognised the local magistrate talking to one of the wealthier merchants with a gisaeng beside him. He blinked. Surely he did not see what he saw the merchant did, did he? Suk-kwon frowned at Young-joon as he gaped and moved so he blocked the view.

Young-joon picked up his tongue from the floor. "I confess I'm looking forward to the feast, is there any speciality I should look out for?"

"I'm afraid not, master Han," said Iseul. "With such short notice, the best we can do is to ensure every guest is served."

"To be certain, that is most important," Young-joon agreed, noticing a small group of men at the furthest corner, already imbibing wine they had brought along. "But where is this famous painter? Is he here?" he pretended keen interest as he looked around.

"He will be here when the time comes," Suk-wkon rubbed his nose for the perfumes that permeated the pavilion was too heavy and cloying. He nearly bent towards Iseul, hoping to catch a whiff of light flora before he realised what he was doing. Red faced, he turned about before she caught it.

"He has taken a room to rest awhile," Iseul paused delicately while eyeing Suk-kwon. What was he getting uptight about? "Are you feeling all right, sir?"

"The air is too heavy," Suk-kwon tried to pull his thoughts to the present, wishing he had not paid her that visit last night or played out that sham. It had been as uncomfortable as disconcerting. She was not particularly pleased with him, he knew but he could find no other satisfactory excuse in visiting her as he did. Since she had offered to serve as they did, it had to be done sooner or later. As her supposed swain, he could visit her as and when he liked without anyone the wiser for the real reason behind it.

"... the fallout would be terrible." He caught the tail end of Young-joon's statement as he roused himself to the present.

"Indeed. I can't imagine what would result," Iseul ran worried eyes over the guests before glancing at Suk-kwon who only smiled. Since the magistrate had summoned the constables, it might not be as bad as they feared when they saw the size of the crowd in the early afternoon.

Down at the courtyard, master Um sat in silence as he observed the crowd, listening to the low bombination to the occasional sibilation of laughter, sipping the wine the woman next to him poured occasionally. Theirs was the only quiet corner in the entire area and the only spot to have a soban. It was as if they were in a world of their own. There were no words between them but their rapport was relaxed and shaded with overtones of affection only perceived by them.

Hyeja was pleased that master Um had returned in a joyful disposition. If he had found what he was looking for then she was happy for him. It also augured an unhappy conclusion for herself but as long as she spend what time that remained with him, she would have memories to treasure to tide over the rest of herdays. She flicked at the chopsticks as he took another sip. Taking the hint, he took up the chopsticks to pick up a piece of tender chicken from one of the dishes on the soban. As he chewed, there came the sound of a gong. The rest of the guests were invited to take their seats.

Like flocks of chattering birds, the crowd made themselves comfortable on the hwamunseok. Servants began to distribute the loaded soban. Those who had come early and snagged the available gisaeng, waited to be served while the latecomers poured the wine themselves. The hum of conversation picked up slightly as the man of the moment came strolling up. Bowing first to the guests at the pavilion, he turned around in his spot and did the same to the crowd. He began to speak. A crier stationed at the steps repeated his words to all those at the courtyard, another at the garden and near the gates spread it onwards.

The speech was the standard creed of welcome, coloured with words alluding to his distinction and quality. Undertones of ridicule could be heard from those seated at the courtyard but most kept their peace to listen. Tension rose when the painting was presented, heads craned. Too far away to see! Was the bidding only open to those at the pavilion? Apparently not as Chung continued to speak. Everyone was assured of a chance to view the painting and make a bid themselves. The painting would be brought round to all the tables before the bidding began. Conversation picked up when the speech was over and Chung seated himself at the table with the local magistrate. That he was pleased with himself was evident as he gestured expensively to the men he chose to exhibit the painting, to hold closer so those at the table could see and examined it for themselves.

There were other men and gisaeng at their table so Young-joon kept whatever comments he made pedestrian as he eyed master Chung with interest. Short fellow, large nose, thin lips, sparse beard with a pompous air as he preened in the compliments. Was this fellow truly as dim as they supposed?

The painting slowly made the rounds to all the tables at the pavilion. Young-joon pretended to scrutinise it carefully, passing what he hoped was moderately enlighten opinions. Suk-kwon said even less, playing the attentive swain to Iseul who did not even have to pretend she was displeased with him. Thus, he imbibed of his wine less than anyone else at the table. By the time everyone had seen the painting, it was evening. The tungnong were lit, casting warm hues of red and amber, infusing the atmosphere with intimacy as wine loosen tongues and cast decorum into the shadows.

The gong was struck again and Chung stood up as Suk-kwon and Iseul watched with interest. The man was hardly drunk for he spoke with purpose. Bidding was officially thrown open, starting at two thousand nyang. The bids came slowly as men roused themselves from the fumes of wine they had indulged in. Several were more interested in the gisaeng than the painting such that Suk-kwon wondered if the entire event would collapse into shambles of outrageous orgy. If it were so, the local magistrate would have to put a stop to it. Having such an occurance in his presence would cost him dearly if it reached the ears of the provincial governor.

The thought must have struck the magistrate as well for he beckoned to his aide standing to the side and whispered instructions. The aide bowed and departed swiftly which Chung ignored as he raised his voice to exhort more biddings when the figure seemed stuck at four thousand five hundred. Would no one bid more? There was no answer as Suk-kwon craned his head to look at the men in the pavilion and the courtyard. Most seemed distracted with the women or drunk. Would he close at less than five thousand?

But no, the man shouted out again which the criers repeated faithfully. After another round of calls, someone suddenly yelled that they were all fools. It was followed by a string of invectives that they were a bunch of free loaders and so forth. The insults continued and became more barbed. Who was that? Faces mottled at the insults and heads turned to locate the culprit. A loud crash of crockery split the air followed by loud thumps and angry roars. A few gisaeng screamed and covered their heads when a group of men at the furthest corner of the pavilion began to throw punches at one another. Those seated nearby hastily rose to their feet as the fight spilled over to the other tables.

Like fire, the fight spread rapidly. Soban were smashed, food trodden underfoot. Suk-kwon pulled Iseul behind him as bottles and dishes began to fly through the air. The rest at the pavilion retreated to the corners and tried to shield themselves from flying debris. Hearing the commotion, the constable officer at the gates rushed in with several men and ran to the pavilion. Chaos reigned for several long moments as the constables tried to separate the brawlers, using their sticks to subdue those insisting on fighting. When the last drunkard was hauled away, half the pavilion was in a mess. Overturned soban, broken crockery, spilled food and wine littered the floor. Iseul gestured to the servants to clean it up even as those remaining at the pavilion recovered their wits. The magistrate announced the auction was at an end.

"No," Chung protested. "We can continue once the pavilion has been cleaned up, sir."

"This disorder is of your making," the magistrate pointed to the gates. "Look at that crowd out there, lured here by the promise of food and drinks which they will not be getting. How do you propose to satisfy them?"

"Sir, that is precisely why the auction must continue. How else can I fulfill my promise?"

"You intend to feed half the populace of this town?" the magistrate was incredulous.

"Sir, I never promise to feed the town, I offered only the freedom of choice."

Suk-kwon almost gave a bark of laughter at the man's chicanery while Iseul shook her head. Even then, with disaster looming, Chung was still imbued with confidence. Did he not realise what had happened?

"I can end the auction as it is, sir. The last bid was four thousand five hundred," continued Chung.

"I'm afraid you will not be able to get even a single nyang," one of the merchants said. Young-joon realised it was old master Hong, a long time associate of his father. "Unless you paint a replacement."

"What ...," Chung began, not understanding what the old man was talking about until the two men he had appointed to exhibit the painting approached hesitantly.

"A replacement," old master Hong repeated as everyone stared at the torn remnants of the painting the two men held. "Which should prove not too difficult for you."

Silence fell as word spread of the accident. Waves of shouts from outside the gates could be heard. Did the crier repeat the statement of a twisted promise? Those within at the pavilion waited with bated breath, eyes fixed on Chung whose face had turned pale. Young-joon was hard put not to smile, forcing his face into a semblance of curiosity.

"I suppose I can allow the auction to continue," the magistrate said, his suspicions aroused when Chung remained speechless. "Replace the painting and start a fresh bid."

"You can't do it, can you?" old master Hong said when no words came forth from Chung, shaking his head. "This is a duplicitous talchum we have been moving to. Dishonorable!"

"I did not acknowledge the claims others are making!" Chung said angrily as a murmur swelled among those who were listening. "The painting itself however is authentic!"

"Did not acknowledge?" old master Hong scoffed. "Then..," he stopped as a loud clamor turned everyone's heads. Horror rose within the hearts of those in the premises of the gibang when they saw the surge of an angry drunken mob, filled to the gills with the wine from the peddlars outside and simmered discontent, burst through the gates.

"Everyone head straight into the rooms of the gibang!" Suk-kwon shouted, pulling Iseul along as he spoke. The servants cleaning up the debris ran as well when they saw the mob while those at the courtyard broke for shelter. Those who were too drunk lay about or tried their best to weave their to safety as several gisaeng fought to direct them in the right direction while the rest simply ran for their lives. Chun-mo pushed Young-joon to run while he grabbed a overturned soban as a shield as he followed.

The overran gatekeepers and the remaining constables fought to hold back the tide while those who broke through began to trash the soban at the courtyard, shouting aloud that they were cheated. Several ran after those stragglers who tried to make for the rooms of the gibang. These fell under a flurry of blows and kicks. Still a few more leapt up the steps, reaching for those gisaeng who were too slow. Only to meet Suk-kwon's fists. As he struck them down, a nabal sounded. Amidst shouts and an uproar from outside, soldiers streamed past the gates. Mercilessly, the raging mob within the gibang were clobbered into whimpering men kneeling on the ground. All were rounded up into a moaning crowd at the courtyard while the guests who were beaten up lay where they were.

Suk-kwon held up both arms above his head the moment he saw the soldiers and walked down to the courtyard when directed to do so. The commanding officer barked a question at him before hurrying to the rooms, returning with the magistrate after some time. What a fine mess! How was he to report this incident? The magistrate eyed Chung with disfavor. A full investigation would have to be conducted. He ordered Chung detain and the mob thrown into jail before he left.

Those guests who were able, left as well while Iseul directed the servants and gisaeng to help the injured, sending one of the servants to summon the physician. She gazed at the wreckage strewn about and was lost for words. It had gone much farther and far worst than she had visualised. The cost in replacements and repair would deplete much of the profits of which she had to answer for.

"We will help," said Young-joon, coming up beside her, understanding her look of despair.

"It is anticipated," added Suk-kwon. "You won't have to dig too much into your own."

"Anticipated?" she heaved a heavy sigh. Indeed, she had thought it would be this worse.

"It is," Young-joon said confidently. "I have better return home. I'll see the both of you at dinner tomorrow," he nodded to Chun-mo who had stuck to him like glue and left.

Heaving another sigh, Iseul began to examine the those soban that looked whole.

"What are you doing?" asked Suk-kwon.

"What does it look like I'm doing," she snapped, pulling at a undamaged soban. "Go away."

"Not until I help with the clean up," he said and moved away, picking up a fallen broom.

What had she agreed to that night? She picked up a spoon. Shedding blood when needed, was it not? Of her own, not others. She looked up as a couple of servants carried an injured guest whose face was swollen and bloody to the rooms. It was a blind and uniform perspective, flustered as she was then by the discovery of Hyewon, that the old man seated before her could simply end her life. He was more terrifying than the late Hyun-su. Even when his foreign cronies embroiled themselves in fights, it was familiar territory she felt confident of treading. The offer had opened an expanse she was not sure she could traverse, given what had occurred. It was wider and further than she could see and not simple. To catch a mouse, she had to break a ssaldok. No, it was not as she thought. Not at all. If she intended to serve, the little world she had been running around in so comfortably had to be widened. No longer could she pat herself on the back for her wits. Such indulgence would only spell ruin.

* * *

**Korean Words**

_gattken - decorative hat string. Only nobles and ministers may use jewels/gems/gold._

_hwamunseok - sedge mat, usually woven with many pictures / patterns, often used outdoors use to its durability and oily surface_

_sujeo - spoons_

**Korean Poems**

_Among those unrelated by family ties_  
_None is as trustworthy as a friend._  
_He points out the errors of my ways._  
_If I had not such a friend,_  
_How could I become a man? - Chong Chol (1536 - 1593)_


	10. Chapter 10

**Baengno 1787**

The next morning, the town was abuzz with the rampage of the night. Gossips raged across the town, from the women in the anbang to the beggars sitting in their rat traps. How had a simple painting auction gone out of control? Prominent on everyone's lips was the duplicity of Chung. His empty promises of free food and drink had attracted droves of men of the wrong ilk for the majority that turned up were wastrels who drank themselves into drunken rages. Those who were there out of curiosity left soon after when they learnt there was no chance of entering the gibang, something which they were thankful for. How many were injured? What would be done to those who were arrested? Most especially, what would the magistrate do with Chung?

At the gibang, there was no music, no laughter. All that could be heard were the sounds of labor as servants hurried to tidy up the place. Most of the debris had been cleared from the courtyard and pavilion. It was fortunate the mob had not the time to do more for surely, they would have tried to burn down the buildings. Iseul was certain that would have happened. She made her inspections with a subdued In-seon as she wrote down the repairs that had to be made in the book she held. Soban and crockery had to be replaced in bulk for too many were destroyed. Until the new items arrived, the gibang was temporarily closed.

In-seon repeated what she had written to Iseul, wondering how far everyone would have to contribute towards the restoration. There were also broken jugs and bottles of wines that belonged to the jumak and wine shops along with the medical bills for the injured guests still resting in the rooms to be paid. All in all, it was the worst business contract In-seon had ever taken up and she was sorry she had allowed greed to overturn good sense.

Iseul found she could not abide In-seon's morose voice that morning and took the book from her. Halfway down the list, there came a call at the closed gates. A servant shouted to the visitor that the gibang was closed but the caller was insistent. On looking out, the servant looked back at Iseul as if he intended to ask for permission but opened the gates instead. To her surprise, it was Young-joon who grinned cheerfully at her as he walked up to her with a servant following behind. What was he so happy about?

"I see everything has been cleared up," he said as he glanced around before turning back to catch her impatient look. Understanding that her temper was short, he gestured to the servant to come forward. "My father sends this," he flipped opened the small chest the servant was holding. In-seon's eyes widened.

"I don't think," began Iseul but Young-joon turned to wave to someone at the gates. A line of men trooped in, bearing stacks of soban and large packages, depositing them in the courtyard.

"It's just a small token I'm afraid," he said, picking up a string of cash from the chest. "But we can replace the soban and crockery."

"It's unreasonable that the house of Han should bear the brunt of the costs..."

"Although ours were but a small part, my father is most regretful that his pursuit in collecting paintings resulted in such an unfortunate affair. Please do accept our apologies," interrupted Young-joon, flicking a look at her that practically yelled; accept it!

"Please convey our thanks to old master Han," said Iseul, aware of the tension in In-seon oozing out with her assent.

"Ahh, mistress, the men will appreciate that you have lightened their burdens," Young-joon grinned, removing the chest from the servant and handing it over to Iseul. "We look forward to having your company for dinner at our residence tonight."

"I will be there," said Iseul and saw him off at the gates.

"How much is in there?" In-seon made to open the chest when Young-joon and the servants had disappeared and jumped when Iseul directed an icy glare at her. "I was just curious."

"Call all the gisaeng to the pavilion," Iseul said to the gatekeeper. "We will do the count together and inspect the wares." Another cold look at In-seon who followed her meekly to the courtyard, comprehending that there must be no suspicion or disension among them regards the money that would be used to compensate for the losses.

* * *

The man sat quietly in the corner but there was a dark and irritable look about his face. The others who shared the cell with him were too preoccupied with hangovers and painful bruises to care about any others but themselves. A few were still sleeping off the liquor they had consumed the night before and snores filled the air. A warden walked past, wrinkling his nose at the sourness of dried vomit, reeking dried wine and vanished further down the corridor. Presently, he returned with two constables to unlock the door of the cell.

"Chung, the magistrate wishes to see you," the warden waited but the man did not move whereupon the constables went into the cell to drag him out.

"Unhand me!" he shouted but was ignored and hauled off down the corridor.

Outside the ok, it was business as usual. Bored constables glanced up and down the street now and then as they stood at the gates. After the excitement of the night, they had relatively nothing to do. Conversation was focused on the culprits of the uproar, now languishing within the jail cells. Criticisms were heaped on the supposed famed painter. How foolish could that fellow be, making such claims and making empty promises? Was he a fool? They stopped for a moment when they heard faint thumps and cries before smirking to one another. One lamented that with the gibang closed indeterminately, he would not able to see his lady for a few days whereupon his colleagues passed bawdy remarks on him. In the midst of their unruly teasing, two men approached the gates. One of them hobbling painfully. The constables stopped in surprise. Was that not Chung? Who was the man with him?

The two men stepped through the gates and down the street as the constables gazed after them, looking at one another. Were the charges dropped against Chung? Was something offered to the magistrate? They huddled in a group so as to gossip softly, afraid of being overheard. An officer strode by and saw they were not paying attention to their duties. He shouted at them in reprimand and handed out punishments for dereliction of duty. Truly that Chung fellow was a harbinger of troubles!

Further down the road, having observed Chung's painful hobble, his companion proposed they rest at a nearby jumak. The suggestion was accepted eagerly. As Chung sat down gingerly, his new friend called for drinks and a round of dishes. When the wine arrived, he poured out a measure for Chung before filling his own cup. As he sipped, he observed Chung with amusement as the cup was emptied in a flash.

"My thanks for your help, master Ghim," Chung sighed. The wine was ambrosia to his parched throat. Picking up the bottle, he poured himself another shot, downed it before he picked up the chopsticks to grab a piece of chicken from one of the dishes. Ghim said nothing but waited till he had wolfed down enough to satisfy his hunger.

"Prison fare was not palatable?" he picked idly at a plate of jeon.

"There was none to be had!" Chung spat angrily. "No water either!"

"Drunken men need no victuals," Ghim put down the chopsticks, disinclined to eat anything after that vociferous statement which saw bits of food flying from his companion's mouth. Why waste any more time with this fellow? "I'm curious. Why did you claim to be Hyewon?" he leaned forward curiously as Chung flushed.

"I did not claim to be Hyewon," he said indignantly. "Can I help it if people think I'm him?" Ghim only looked at him without comment. "I had the painting, everyone likes my paintings, that's what they said about me," he gulped down another cup of wine and eyed his benefactor. "I'm not a bad painter myself. I'm just as good as any of the famed painters: Danwon, Hyewon, In-mun, Bang-un, Yak-yong. It takes the ones who can really appreciate my work to see the beauty," he saw Ghim was not convinced and decided to return to topic. "I do not see why I have to say anything. What they think can only drive up the price," he said candidly, feeling he could be honest with the only man who had stepped forward to help him.

"Where did you get the painting? Can you describe it?" Ghim ignored what the man was not saying, being more interested in another matter.

"I found it in a pack washed up to shore, in Gangneung," Chung coughed and upended the bottle. Impassively, Ghim ordered another bottle of wine.

"If you found it in Gangneung, why come all the way to sell it here?"

"I found a collateral with it to collect six hundred nyang from old master Han. I thought I'd deliver it and get the money myself," Chung did not think his new friend was interested in the food so he began to clear up whatever was left on the dishes with the fresh bottle of wine when it arrived.

"Six hundred nyang. Is that what the collateral stated? Did it specify it's for the painting?"

"No but that was what I assumed," Chung said sourly. "There were only the two items in the pack. Since whoever it was could not claim it, I came here and tried to get the money. That old man refused to pay since I didn't offer the painting."

"You kept the painting?"

"I made a second visit and tried to get a better price but he refused, so I kept it. And why shouldn't I?" Chung slapped the table indignantly. "There was no owner's imprint. It was mine to do as I please," he declared and then his face darkened when he remembered the painting was lost. "I should have accepted the six hundred nyang," he pounded the table, the impact rocking the dishes and cups violently, ignoring the looks directed his way from the other customers at the jumak.

"As well you should, old master Han is a collector of paintings as everyone knows," Ghim said pointedly, hiding his disdain for Chung. "What was the painting about?"

"It's just some depiction of a dancing couple and musicians," Chung rubbed his nose and sneezed, not seeing the look of disgust that crossed Ghim's face.

"I am familiar with Hyewon's works and all those that had recently appear over the last few years. Definitely, that is a new one. Old master Han had offered you a fair price," Ghim signaled the tavernkeeper and paid up when she bustled over. "It is unfortunate that the auction should get out of hand."

"It should not have turned out that way," Chung grumbled. "Wait," he put out a hand to prevent Ghim's departure. "What did you do to get the magistrate to release me? I was certain I would be charged and sentenced to manual labor."

"I didn't do anything, merely convinced him that you meant no harm," Ghim looked at the hand on his sleeve. Chung got the message and let go. "I'm just curious about the man claiming to be Hyewon, that's all. Have a good day," he said before walking away.

What a foolish egoistical fellow! Ghim stifled a yawn. He should not have risen so early just to get a fool out of jail but he had thought there would be something interesting to learn. What a disappointment. He should just go back home and sleep before paying a visit to the art gallery later though he did not think he would learn anything momentous. Yes, that was what he ought to do.

Behind him, Chung sat for a moment before getting to his feet, wincing at the pain from his bottom. Although he had been released without serious charges, still, the magistrate had seen fit to order a number of strokes for his part in disrupting the peace. He supposed he was lucky, he thought as he made his way down to the minchon. What should he do next? Certainly his plans were in ruins but he was not about to give up as yet. The next most important objective was he should shift to another jumak, preferably out of town. The jangsi jumak would do, it was just a few miles south-east. Too, that girl was staying there. She might not have left yet.

There was astonishment when he appeared at the jumak he put up at. Ignoring the looks and whispers, he went to his room and began to pack. Within moments, he was done and he left the room. The tavernkeeper was waiting for him with a couple of men. Clearly, she thought he would flee without making payment. He held back his contempt at her suprise when he paid her what he owe. As he hobbled away, he fingered his money pouch. There was still a respectable amount of money left. It should be enough to tide him till he made his next profit.

* * *

**Ghim Residence**

When the servant announced there was a visitor, Ghim was hardly surprised. After the incident, he supposed master Um came to report. What would he have to say? He waited at the courtyard, gesturing to the man to follow him to the garden when he appeared with the servant.

"You have heard of the events of the night," master Um said.

"I have. How can I not when everyone speaks of it? From the inner quarters to the slums, tongues wagged," Ghim waved at the walls.

"As it is, there is nothing to be found," the man paused. "My search is fruitless."

"Are you weary?" Ghim paused by the lotus pond.

"How can one not be? I do not think this is important."

"Be careful. Think of what you are treading on here," he warned. "Your task cannot stop as long as you turn up nothing. That is what we have agreed on," he turned to master Um who was staring into the water. "Yes, it is difficult but think of the benefits and farther beyond that. Who knows you will not attain your objectives tomorrow?"

"What if I say I am on the verge of attaining them?"

* * *

**Han Residence**

"He has not left town."

The announcement came as no surprise to those who sat at the daecheong. The gathering was cosy, formed with old master Han at the epicenter with three forming a semicircle with the three women just sitting at the perimeter, in reach of the large soban in the middle. As the night was chilly, the punhapmun were closed and a brazier providing additional warmth was placed just behind old master Han.

"Where has he gone?" Yunbok set the bowl of sujeonggwa gently on the soban after taking a sip.

"The jangsi jumak," said Suk-kwon. "It only goes to prove that he has some other agenda to grind."

"Not for a while yet," there was an air of amusement about old master Han. "He should be smarting for a day or two from the punishment meted out."

"I don't understand this part at all. Why did the magistrate release him so easily?" said Young-joon. "Shouldn't the sentence be heavier?"

"Unlike previous satto, the current official is opened to arguments," Suk-kwon smiled at Young-joon's doubt. "If master Ghim's arguments have merit, he would act accordingly."

"That accounts for the beating and the fine," mused Yunbok. "The magistrate can argue his case if the provincial governor questioned him."

"He can turn it to his advantage," Suk-kwon nodded in agreement. "Moreover, he was quick to summon the garrisoned troops which he had the foresight to muster early. They would not have arrived in time if he had not."

Young-joon and Su-dae stared at him in surprise. The magistrate had the soldiers waiting?

"But of course he should," said Iseul. "How can he not be suspicious of someone making dangerous and provocative promises?"

"There were also too few constables at the gibang," pointed out Suk-kwon. "The rest of them and additional troops had been deployed to other key positions to prevent a mass outbreak."

More surprises, what else did they not know about? Iseul glared at Suk-kwon who winced and hurriedly continued on to the next subject. "With his reputation in ruins, what can Chung do?" he frowned as he thought of the man's behaviour. "His character is such that he will not leave without trying to get what he came for."

"I do not see any options that are open to him. Whatever offers he might make, they are not dependable," pointed out old master Han.

"I do not see it that way, sir." put in Yunbok. "The only error he has made is his failure to disclaim the identity affixed by rumors."

"He has nothing of worth to offer now," objected Young-joon.

"While that is true, his next blandishment cannot be a deception," Suk-kwon picked up his bowl of sujeonggwa. "I don't see what we can do but wait for his next play."

With no further developments, the topic on Chung was suspended and the discussion shifted to the restoration of the gibang. Of which, Iseul was immensely grateful for the Hans' donation for business resumed faster than expected. After such a setback of such proportions, it was unlikely such public contracts would be entertained in future. The talk meandered to general topics. The trading expeditions had returned with new foreign products of the likes that could only be seen in Hanseong, prices of commodities were maintaining an even keel. With the seasons running as scheduled, there would be no disruptions to harvests. It would be a good year. There was also talk of a petition to the King to suppress the new religious learning that nurtured heresy. The debate bounced about on subject versus religion.

* * *

**Village tavern**

"I can't believe he came here!" the complaint was muted but vexed.

He made no answer. Having heard it numerous times for the course of the day, it was just noise to him. His attention was focused on the book he held in his hands instead.

"Why does he have to come here? Surely there are better places for him to put up in? The farther away the better." Silence for a moment that hung heavily.

"There is nothing we can do," he said finally, knowing she was waiting for him to say something. "But to bide patiently for him to finish whatever he intended and leave."

"Oppa, it is obvious what he intents," she laid out small ribbons on the floor, admiring the colours.

"Aren't you jumping to assumptions? Coming here is probably the only way he can escape the scorn and gossips," he turned a page.

"The only way to leave the scorn and gossips behind is to head as far away as possible from here and change his name!" opening a small pangjiggori, she rolled up the ribbons and stored them. "I wish we could leave."

"Yes, let us do that, sneak away quietly in the night," he looked up and grinned. "With so many feet and so much to carry."

"Not everyone, just us," she huffed at his deliberate obtuseness. "I doubt ajoshi will agree though, he seems to have formed an attachment."

"I think he is near the end of his task or he will not have done so," he put down the book as visions rose before him. "Imagine us as a complete family!"

"Do you really think so?" she said doubtfully as she got up to check the cage. The pigeon did not stir as she gently lifted the cloth.

_Gentle hands, gentle as feathers_  
_Soft as a whisper, light as a gaze_  
_comes a warm breath, to settle a fluttering heart_  
_Heartbreak for the mosi seeker_

She made no answer to his offering, merely to throw him a peeved look.

"If Chung were to see this sight, he would fly into a fit," he said wryly as she fussed over the cloth, ensuring no draught could slip through. "And perhaps roast the little one for dinner."

"I'm off to rest, don't you let anything happen to Sojo!" opening the door a crack, she peered out warily as he watched with amusement before slipping out.

* * *

**Ghim Residence**

Lounging lazily on the poryo, head propped on a hand, he waved a hand in the air in accompaniment to the hyangpiri. Ahh, music for the soul, to raise him to the heavens. He eyed the woman appreciatively, noting the delicacy of her fine skin. Humming and nodding his head approvingly, he reached for the cup on the soban before him and paused when someone called outside the door. Did he not say he was not to be disturbed? The music faltered as he sat up and answered angrily. The door opened and the servant bowed lower than usual, knowing he had roused his master's ire but proffered the letter he was holding. Stupid fellow, was he expecting him to get up? He barked an order and the servant hastily ventured into the room to hand it over before retreating to the door again.

Total silence as he opened the envelope and read the letter, for the music had stopped. The gisaeng waited patiently. The contents seemed rather long as he flipped from one page to the other but the colour of his face changed alarmingly as he came to the end of it. The papers were crumpled and he rapped out unexpected order; the servant was to send the gisaeng back to the gibang. There was no disappointment in her face as she bowed and left. Entertaining this customer was not much gratifying, being well known for his stingy and overbearing ways.

Alone in his room, he read the letter again. It was a jest surely? A mistake. But no, everything was as he had read initially. The fool. The stupid fool. Why did it have to be him to clean up the mess? Could they not have sent someone else to mind the dimwit? Heaving a sigh, he folded the letter and went to the door, shouting loudly for a servant. Was he still at the jumak or had he moved on? It would make his task easier if the fool had left.

He never had it so easy as the current arrangement, an opportunity that the heavens had seen fit to cast in his way. All he had to do was keep an eye open and a ear to the ground. Even if he had nothing to report, his business was assured and he reaped the profits without having to run himself to the ground. A good wife to keep him in comfort. A roof over his head, money to spend and good company to be had. He did not need a fool to start ruining things for him. Where were the servants? Shouting at the top of his voice, he marched off in search.

* * *

**Uiryeong gibang**

Although the air was frosty, he basked in the warmth of the wine, the glowing brazier and the company of the woman beside him as he sat at the verandah. It was mostly empty, except for a myriad of sounds coming from the other rooms. From where he sat, he could see into the garden, the courtyard and the pavilion. All of which stood empty. It was less noisy too, for business at the gibang had only partially resumed as per Iseul's orders.

"You seemed at peace tonight," said Hyeja as she refilled his cup.

"Perhaps a false peace before the storm," he said carefully, not shifting his gaze from the dark sky.

"What do you anticipate, if it is the repose you seek."

Should he express his hopes? He recalled the conversation he had in the afternoon.

_"What if I say I am on the verge of attaining them?"_

_"Attaining them? Whose purpose do you speak of?"_

_"Only that which is important to me."_

_"You put yourself forward? Were you anywhere else, I doubt you would have spoken so."_

_"Even if I were in the lair of a horangi, still, I will speak my mind but then it will be wasted effort. A horangi ever acts on instinct."_

_"You go too far."_

_"Am I? Does the horangi pause to ask its meal if it wants to be eaten?"_

_"Perhaps you should have gone to its lair instead of my wasting time here. As it is, this horangi plays by the rules. The contract stands."_

_Plays by the rules_. He snorted softly as he reached for the cup and realised she was waiting for his answer.

"I should watch the soil patiently and pray my care is enough to see my wishes grow as I wish it," he sat the cup down and reached nto his coat, bringing out a norigae. "I saw this while roaming around the marketplace with my niece. I thought perhaps you would like to have it," his eyes lit up with her pleasure as she examined it.

It was a eun hyanggapnorigae, purple tassels and maedeup with a perfume case with the words gang and nyeong engraved on the roundel. The pendant was beautifully wrought, intricate was the must have been costly. Hope rose swiftly before she squashed it firmly.

"This is too ...," she protested, feeling he should not splurged and made to return it to him.

"Please. I have travelled a long wearying lonely journey. It is not often I find peace and comfort so just accept it as a token of my appreciation. And...," he added hesitatingly.

"Yes?"

He said it quickly before he changed his mind in speaking of it. "But perhaps a new beginning with the spring."

* * *

**Paper mill**

The leaves rustled in the wind as it brushed against the trees. A few dropped to the ground, weakened by time and cold. Emboldened, the wind swept to the doors but there, it met an obstacle it tried to overcome and was largely repelled. Some of the chill managed to creep through but was once more beaten down. Music, warmth, solicitude permeated the room. Such was the hold of serenity that it was sometime before she realised they were not alone.

He was at the desk, painting. It seemed to her the brush was dancing to the pulse of the music. Fascinated, she silently moved closer, the better to see. The music did not cease even as the song came to an end, it swept into another and another until he laid down the brush. Feeling the outsider, occluded from their sphere, she watched them smiled at each other, conveying their feelings in a way not tangible to her. How she envied them for their affections, this little haven they had made for themselves.

"Does it lighten your heart?" Iseul said nothing for a moment but watched Jeong-hyang cover the gayageum and propped it with care against the wall.

"Some," she admitted. "It is not easy to lay it aside however."

"Because of your acceptance?" he dipped the used brush into a small bowl of water. "It must have been a shock, to perceive the intensity of the layers and the wilderness you have stepped out to."

"It is as you said. I do not know if I can survive it," she looked up when Jeong-hyang sat down and caught her hand.

"Dear sister, why do you think you face it alone? We are in it together, even if at times we are not there in body."

"I feel alone," sighed Iseul. "It is not so simple as facing down ruffians at the gibang or listening to covert conversations. To take an active part is to effect consequences far beyond, something I have stayed away from."

"Do you want to recant?" Satisfied that the brush was clean, he hung it on the brush stand. "Old master Han will not take it untoward."

"He terrified you, didn't he?" Jeong-hyang said when Iseul stayed silent.

"Death has never seem so near as it was then," admitted Iseul. "Nevertheless, I do not regret my pledge to serve."

"It is best if you have a clearer understanding of the role you are to play," he rolled up the painting after making sure the ink was dry. "The murky depths of the vast ocean is your fear. Clarify this with master Park, I am sure he intends to guide you."

"They can't possibly hand you tasks you are not ready for," said Jeong-hyang.

"Even as I was prepared for the chaos, it was a different reality," " Iseul shook her head, finding no words to describe the possible carnage that might have occurred.

"It will not have happened," he saw her look of puzzlement. "The magistrate accepted an invitation to a dubious painting auction with clear expectations."

"Even so...," Iseul sighed. To her astonishment, he handed the painting to her. "No, how can you give this to me?" she protested. "It's too dangerous."

"Take it, as a token of our regard," Jeong-hyang stayed Iseul's hand when she made to return it to Yunbok.

The paper seemed to weigh Iseul down and yet buoyed her with warmth. It was the most precious gift that anyone had given to her, she felt. A stirring from the desk and she looked up to see him reaching for the tunggyong.

"It is getting late, we should turn in," he said. "There is much to do tomorrow."

* * *

**Third Watch**

The darkness was encompassing, with a few spots of light shining in the distance. All was quiet saved for the shuffle of footsteps. Holding their chorong, the noctivagant night watchmen twirled their clubs as they strolled along the winding path, looking to the walls now and then as they chatted. Unnoticed behind them, a shadow crept along before passing the boundary wall of the house he was seeking. With a quick silent leap, he got onto the top of the wall. Assured that no one was about as he looked over, he dropped down to the ground.

Swiftly, he ran across the courtyard and stopped at the punhapmun. Locked. Fishing out some small tools, he jiggled and worked at the spoon holding down the latch of the door. It which sprang loose after a while but did not fall to the floor. Instead, it dangled on the string he had managed to loop at the end. Closing the doors behind him, he went past the daecheong, putting out his hand along the wall as soon as he came to the first door of the sarang. On silent feet, he moved along the corridor, counting and stopped. Would the door be locked? It was as he gently tried to open it. Slipping his tools through the crack, he replicated his trick. As he entered the room, he listened for a moment before proceeding to the walls. It should be where he last saw it. Should he risk a light? Glancing at the closed bedroom door, he brought out a small candle and lit it, hoping the pop as the match flared to life from the live ember he brought along was not audible. The ember he dropped into the brazier in the room.

Where was it? He looked at the walls. There. A series of movements before he snuffed out the candle. He left the way he came, a thieving shadow.

* * *

**Korean Words**

_chorong - portable lantern_

_hyangpiri - small flute_

_ok - jail, usually located far away from town residences_

_jeon - pan-fried delicacies_

_norigae - pendant worn by women_

_punhapmun - panel, removable doors that ranged from four to eight, can be lifted up_

_satto - district magistrate_

_sujeonggwa - fruit punch made of dried persimmons, ginger, cinnamon and honey (autumn to new year drink)_


	11. Chapter 11

**Baengno 1787**

The road was a vein of activity, horses and ox driven carts ambled to and fro, mules dwarfed by the loads of firewood stacked on their backs, peddlars as equally burdened with the wares they carried on their jige. A few men hovered along the road, buckets standing at intervals as they waited with small shovels to scoop up any of the dung excreted by the animals. One of the men darted in for the prize let dropped by a horse, beating his competitors to it. In his haste, he almost knocked down a man walking with a strange gait. The man managed to avoid getting smeared in the process and a grimace of discomfort crossed his face. Rubbing twinging muscles, he avoided yet another dash for manure. Given a choice, he would have rather stayed in bed, nursing his hurts. But if he wanted to fill his jumeoni, he could not laze as he pleased. His stomach rumbled, reminding him he had not had breakfast.

Accordingly, he made his way to the nearest jumak after passing through the eastern gates. Yawning at interrim, he made a leisurely meal of the gukbap. Once he was done, he paid the tavernkeeper and continued on to his intended destination. As it was still early, the light of day barely brightening the streets, a few shops were still closed in the marketplace. To his disappointment, the shop he headed for was not ready for business. But then, who would bother with a art gallery this morning when there were other more important daily concerns?

He would have to wait. There was no place to sit but resting his bottom on a cold surface was hardly advisable. He opted to stand, leaning against the wall of the shop when his legs tire, watching the street filled with more people as the day lightened. Nobody paid him any mind as they went about their business. As he eyed a jangot covered woman hurrying by, he did not notice someone approaching until a voice broke into his reverie of the woman.

"It is surprising to see you here at this hour, sir," Gang did not smile when Chung gave a start of fright. "Word has it that you have left."

"As you can see, rumors are wrong," Chung straightened up, aware of the other man's unspoken disparagement. "I am here on business."

"I can see that," Gang turned away, fetching out the keys to unlock the panjangmun of his painting shop. Pushing open the doors, he unhinged, lifted and hooked them to the rafters. Setting aside the short pole he used for the doors, he strolled slowly into the shop, checking over the hung paintings like a doting parent, running his hands over the scrolls and painting tools. All was in place. Light filtered in from the guangjang as he went to his desk at the back of the shop. Methodically, he stoked up the brazier in the corner with more charcoal before placing a copper pot over it. Lifting the top of the teapot, he measured in tea leaves from a container he took down from the chantak. A look at the brazier before he sat down at the desk.

"What is it you wish, sir?" he said politely, as if unaware that he had made Chung wait while he fussed about his morning ritual.

"Your expert assessment," Chung seated himself with aplomb, removing a rolled up paper from his sleeve and handed it over to Gang who received it expressionlessly. Nor did it changed as he unrolled and examined it. Setting it down, he lit the candle on the desk, bringing the choktae closer as he perused the painting again. Bruskstrokes, seals, script. For a long moment, he said nothing before looking at Chung.

"I assume this is for sale?"

"Assuredly," Chung said, more confident now that the painting had been authenticated. "I wish to hold another auction," he held up a hand as Gang looked askance at him. "Privately. At a place of my own choosing, not opened to the public."

"I see," Gang glanced to the side to see if the pot was boiling. "Then what other business do you have?"

"I wonder if you would do me the honour by being the autioneer for this painting. There is a commission of course, for your trouble," Chung saw his surprise. "As the most reputable art critic of this town, your word will go a long way in assuring potential customers. Too, I am but a layman when it comes to merchandising. All I know is art!" he waved at the paintings around the shop.

And the art of philogyny, drinking and deception, thought Gang dourly but he said nothing and listened to the pompous speech.

"Art!" Chung got up, assuming the stance of contemplative dignity, wincing a little as the back of his hands hit the sore spots of his bottom. "Painting is in my blood. I eat, sleep and dream about it. I cannot live without it. All my energies is devoted to the arts! Where would I have the time to learn business? I thought I knew better but I have learnt my lesson. It is better to leave business to those who live by it. Without doubt, sir, your acumen in this scope of selling paintings is far beyond mine. Hence, I am asking for your help in this venture. I have the outmost confidence in your business acumen."

Should he or should he not agree to it? Gang looked at the painting once more.

"The commission...," he began.

"One-tenth," Chung said quickly, feeling it was a generous offer, having spent much time agonizing over it.

"I'll draw up a contract," Gang said, pulling out paper from the yeonsang. "Where is the venue?" he picked up the byeoru to prepare the ink and stopped as a letter was deposited on the desk.

"It's all there," Chung said. "Venue and time. I ask for your endorsement on the rest," he pulled out a sheaf of papers from within his coat.

"You are so certain I will agree to it," Gang was a little put out as he read the letter.

"Of that, no," Chung shook his head. "But I was prepared to offer more."

"I see," Gang said nothing further but took out a seal from a drawer of the desk. Once all the papers were stamped, Chung rolled them up and tucked them into his coat again.

"I will leave the painting in your care," he used his own seal on the contract and waited to receive his own half of the paper. "Until tomorrow, master Gang," he nodded a farewell and left.

The hissing sound of boiling water brought Gang to his feet. Hastily, he grabbed thick wads of cloth from the chantak and lifted the boiling pot from the brazier, setting it to rest on a small pitted soban nearby. Removing the cover from the teapot, he poured in the hot water and returned to his desk, picking up the painting again and turned it over. His eyes narrowed as he used a magnifying glass to examine the borders. Using a finger, he swept it across and looked at the white powder left behind. Sighing heavily, he rolled it up and sat thinking for a moment. He tucked the painting in his sleeve, went to the brazier and removed most of the glowing coals, making sure to bank the rest properly. After checking nothing would inadvertently fall into the brazier, he closed up the shop and headed for the eastern residences.

* * *

**Paper mill**

A voice murmured softly, carried through the opened doors. Within, half the floor gleamed in the light of the sun. There was a pause before the the voice picked up again, A hand went round and round, a cotton bag held fast in the palm. As it swept against the floor, it left behind an oily sheen. The boy worked steadily, making sure the area he was working on received an even treatment even as he continued under his breath. If one were to listen carefully, he would realise the boy was reciting a viand of sweets. Of every kind. Down the floor he went, reaching the opposite end from where he started. Tapping and squeezing the cotton bag, he began on the final stretch, heaving a sigh as he rubbed his nose. What food should he list next? Perhaps he should recite something else for thinking about sweets made him hungry. Poems would not do for they were boring. Guk, perhaps he should recite guk.

_Let's see, there's kongnamulguk, olgaengitguk, bukeotguk, seonjitguk, jaecheopguk._ The thought of clams nearly drove him wide. Strong was the temptation to run to the kitchen to grab some gangjeong.

As he debated with himself, there came the sound of hoofs coming into the courtyard. Was that ajoshi Han? Leaving the cotton bag on the floor, he went to the doors. It was not Young-joon he saw but one of the servants from the Han residence who hailed him when he saw the boy.

"Ajoshi," P'ado greeted politely as he ran down to the courtyard.

"Is master Seo here?" the servant asked. "A letter from old master Han, give this to him as soon as possible," he reached down to hand over a letter when P'ado shook his head.

"Is it urgent?"

"Yes, I would say it is so," the servant smiled and waved before turning the horse about and was gone as fast as he had appeared.

Urgent. P'ado looked at the letter and grimaced in dismay when he realised his oily fingers were leaving smudges. Putting the letter on his jacket, he tried to wipe off the oil but only succeeded in spreading it. Aboji would not be pleased, he was sure.

"Who was that?" came Jeong-hyang's voice.

"An urgent letter for aboji from haraboji Han," he waved the letter at her as she beckoned to him from the porch.

"Oh my," she looked at the large streaks of oil across the paper and looked at her own oily hands. "Leave the letter here and wash your hands, then bring it to him."

A grin lit his face as he hurried to do as she said. He wiped his hands dry in the kitchen before lifting the cover from one of the pots to grab a piece of gangjeong. After thinking it over, he stuck the gangjeong in his mouth before taking up a gotgam and returned to the porch.

"You'll spoil your dinner," was all she said when she saw the food. "Don't take too long, there's still the floor of your room to polish!" she called when he grabbed the letter and galloped off. He waved to show that he heard and trotted down the path, munching steadily at the sweets.

The sounds of the dure pungjang grew louder as he headed for the fields. Aboji was working the hemp fields, so he should head there. Skipping across the rice fields, he exchanged greetings with the villagers he came across. Crossing the borders of low walls, he craned to see who was working the cotton but only saw bobbing heads amidst the green. Following a narrow trail, he weaved in and out and jumped when someone growled at him. He knew that sound. Seong-cheol!

He snapped his teeth at his friend peering out among the cotton plants, pretending to be a horangi. Given a chance, he would leap for the other but mindful he was on an errand, the best he could do was to "stare" the other down. He need not have bothered for a voice rapped out, scolding Seong-cheol for time wasting. Grinning, he went on his way and eventually arrived at the hemp fields. Where was aboji? Walking down each row of hemp, he looked for a familiar figure among those weeding the plants.

"What are you doing here?" he jumped when a hand tapped him on the shoulder.

"Aboji, haraboji Han sent you an urgent letter," he held out the letter to Yunbok. How had he missed him?

"Oh is that it?" Yunbok started to take the letter but the sight of his soil encrusted hands changed his mind. "You hold the letter up."

Carefully, P'ado opened the envelope and shook out the letter, holding it aloft so Yunbok could read it.

"It would be better if you hold it right side up," Yunbok hid a grin as red blossomed over P'ado's face as he hastily corrected his mistake. "Well, you can keep it away now," he said after a moment. "Put the letter in the bandaji and tell omoni ajoshi Han will be coming over for dinner tonight."

"Aboji, where is master Park?" the boy wanted to know, not having seen the older man since morning.

"He has some business to attend to, why?"

"Ahh, nothing," P'ado was not about to say he was hoping to learn something else in his lessons.

"Right then, off you go. You're suppose to help omoni with the cleaning today," Yunbok knew what the boy was hoping for as he watched the little figure trotting away. He was in for some frustrations in the coming months until he learned patience. Hopefully, he would not kvetch daily. That would not mark him well but he was still young. The smile left him as he thought about the letter. Things were definitely getting interesting.

* * *

**Uiryeong seohwadang**

The compound was quiet with a few officials moving at a even pace along the corridors. The atmosphere was one of plodding and quiet industry as heads were bent to documents or eyes focused on some unknown task to be done. A little clump of men stood deep in discussion, seeming oblivious to their surroundings. Soldiers stood at attention at intervals, one would have taken them for statues for all the movement they made. A tiny creak of doors and a myriad of colours suddenly trooped out to break the oscitant ambience. Along with them came a balneal of scents that tickled the nose. The heads of the clump of men turned, appreciative eyes fixed to the varicoloured group that emerged from the yebang.

Aware but never directing flirtatious glances in the men's direction, the group made for the pungnamru, breaking into muted chatters once they cleared the gates. The audience with the hojang had gone far better than they hoped. How afraid they had been there would be disciplinary action taken against them for the riot at the gibang. A riot they felt In-seon was largely to blame and should shoulder the most responsibility. Although aware of their criticisms, In-seon kept pace with Iseul for she had a pressing matter to bring to her attention.

"What is it?" Iseul could practically feel the woman's breath down her neck for she had been on edge the whole morning. At first, she had put it down to the forthcoming interview with the hojang but since she was still distraught, it was clearly something else.

"That.. Chung came looking for me earlier," In-seon stopped as Iseul turned to her in surprise. "He demanded compensation."

"What?!" Iseul was incredulous. "On what basis does he made such a claim?"

"I.. er .. er," In-seon fidgetted guiltily as the rest gathered round to listen. What had she done now?

"Speak up," said one of the annoyed gisaeng. A newcomer who by all counts who would have been taken to task for daring to speak in such a manner to a gisaeng who outranked her. No one said anything for In-seon's standing among her peers was in tatters.

"It is a jest surely," burst out In-seon. "He tricked me."

"Get to it, get to it!" hissed the rest impatiently, having no desire to hear excuses.

"There's another contract I didn't speak of .. I didn't know it was a contract, until he showed it to me ..," stuttered In-seon. "But the day he sold that painting to one of the patrons? You had words with him. He was curious about you and asked many questions. Then the night you were away, he brought up the subject of seals while we were finalising the contract for the auction and showed me his, claiming he made it himself. We ended up comparing various seals...," she faltered at the icy stare Iseul directed at her. "I was drunk!" she burst out, hoping the excuse would appease Iseul.

"Let me guess .. you used mine," Iseul fought not to scream at In-seon. "I supposed he stamped it on an empty sheet and you never noticed it and he came to you today and brandished whatever contract he made up, with that seal in place, is that it?" the desire to throttle In-seon was strong as the woman nodded. "What does the contract stipulate?"

"A ... night with him," In-seon muttered. At that, the rest withdrew a pace from her.

"Typical and how pathetic," Iseul said frostily, resuming her stroll. The gaggle of geese followed meekly, wondering how she was going to get herself out of the mess. "My personal seal is with me so I presumed you used the other?"

"Yes," apologies rose to In-seon's lips but she found she could not voice them, feeling they would be in vain.

Silence. No one ventured to speak as they walked back to the gibang. The visible cloud hanging over the group elicited curious glances from those who passed their way. Did some calamity befall them? Such an unhappy lot of gisaeng! The gatekeepers at the gates bowed and reported no disturbance; all was as usual. As they proceeded to the courtyard, a tall figure waved. Iseul was not sure whether Suk-kwon's presence was heaven sent or a stroke of luck. Still playing the swain, he ambled cheerfully up to her and his smile dropped when he saw her solemn mien. But what was the trouble, he enquired solicitously. Casting alarmed glances at him, In-seon made herself scarce while the rest hovered uncertainly. As if to make matter worse, who should come by but the perpetrator of the bother himself.

"There you are, I was looking for you," he said expensively as he strolled up to Iseul, having spent some time loitering about the gibang once he learnt she was absent.

"You have business with her?" said Suk-kwon before she could answer.

"Of course I do," Chung pulled out a piece of paper from within his coat and flapped it in the air. "This is a contract that says she has to spend a night with me."

"That is a farce of a contract, sir, and you know it. I was not there to witness it," Iseul itched to tear that paper out of the insufferable man's hand.

"But binding! What matters that you were not there? There is a witness, she stamped it herself, on the paper," he tapped it emphatically. "If you did not approve of it, why would she use the seal?"

"As you well know, this entire matter is a farce!" she tried to hold on to her temper. "At least let me have a look at the contract. It is only fair I should know the terms." Chung hesitated for a moment before he held up the paper a distance before her, disinclined to let her touch. But it was enough for Iseul to see it was just a single sentence which nearly made her laugh aloud.

"What kind of contract is this?" There was a dangerous tone to Suk-kwon's voice. Eyeing him uneasily, the listening gisaeng backed away, the better to get out of harms way if there was violence. By now, the ruction had attracted the attention of the other patrons who chattered amongst themselves? Who was this? Was he not the phony painter? How shameless of him to continue to show his face in this town.

"Since it is supposed to be a private contract," interjected Iseul before Chung could answer, "my personal seal is the only stamp that will make it valid. Any others is void. If I am right, that seal is purely for business transactions for the gibang," she emphasized the last statement. Would he even understand what she was saying?

"It is valid! Irregardless of the type of contract, the seal makes it valid!" anger mottled Chung's face.

"Then sir, it is a business contract. Are you saying I'm so irresponsible as to sign over the _entire_ services of all the gisaeng to you for a night?" Titters and laughter filled the air at that, infusing more fury in Chung at their ridicule. He snatched away the paper as Suk-kwon made to take it to read, knowing he had made an error in the wording. Curses on the woman. How many seals did she have?

"In that case, since you have admitted to doing such a thing, I will start with you!" Chung bulled forward, making as if to grab her by the arm.

"I think, sir, it cannot be settled so readily," Suk-kwon interposed himself between them. "If there is doubt about the contract, it should be looked into by an arbiter or even the magistrate."

"Who are you, sir, to stand in my way!"

"Well, I'm her gibu and I've my rights." The listening gisaeng gasped. Behind him, Iseul rolled her eyes but said nothing. He had done it! Announced it publicly. Now she would have to field the questions and gossips which she had been trying to put down. "Although she has retired but still, I have a claim on her. I'm afraid we can never come to an agreement so please, leave."

If it were any other fellow, Chung would have tried to fight but Suk-kwon was taller than him and looked he could break him in two so he changed his mind. Throwing a angry but helpless glare, Chung stormed out of the gibang. A sigh of relief ran around and the audience broke up, turning to their own business and pleasures. Iseul was tempted to kick Suk-kwon as he gently nudged her in the direction of her house. What a earful she would give him for the stunt he pulled.

* * *

**Ghim Residence**

The piles of leaves shivered and trembled in the breeze that grew steadily stronger. Those at the top slithered to the bottom before they were whirled into the air, spinning helplessly before they fetched up against various obstacles. A few danced around a clump of feet, their shepherd among them but the owners paid no heed as they craned their heads in the direction of the sarang. A maid tiptoed up to them and whispered, causing the little group to jump with fright. Amidst a rush of hushed scoldings, they murmured amongst themselves even as they strained to pick up words from where they stood. None dared to go nearer.

"You are supposed to be up north!" came a shout. The next statement was a murmur as if the owner was aware he should not be airing the conversation.

For a moment, there was silence in the room except for the sound of liquid and the thump of a cup hitting wood. Wiping his mouth, Ghim glared at Chung seated opposite him. It seemed his guest was paying him no mind for his head was turned to the side and his gaze was fixed at some faraway spot. That nose of his stood out in prominence that it was a wonder it had not weighed down the face. Perhaps it was meant to weigh down his opponents but it did not seem to be doing its job.

"North," he repeated as he leaned forward, tapping the soban before him. "North, you were supposed to head north with that painting where it could be decided what to do with it. You have destroyed a good lead!"

"I am following a lead, a good one," Chung said, turning to look at him.

"It's spurious! You should have realised it by now if you have done your work.." he picked up the bottle to pour another measure of wine.

"How can it be spurious?! Have you even thought about it? Two items that pointed to this town, to one person. This person was involved with the first incident, don't you find it highly suspicious?"

"The first incident started with his niece, who just happened to have a counterfeit painting palmed off to her by an admirer. Moreover, his enthusiasm for collecting paintings is well known, he is a wealthy merchant of some renown. Is it so surprising he has agents of his own looking out for such paintings?" Ghim said reasonably, attempting to make his guest see reason. "Every Yangban, wealthy men sought many items as investments, how is he any different?"

"He has too many paintings of this particular painter."

"What of it?! Some of them might even be replicates."

"That is ridiculous, you said it yourself that he is a wealthy man. Why would he even bother with replicates? I know they are _not_ replicates."

"His money is his to do as he likes. Are we to question how much he pays to acquire each one?"

"He has too many," Chung insisted, "for one who is an admirer."

"How many did you see?"

"Three."

"Three! Are you saying yakgwa is sweeter than honey?" feeling he was making no progress, Ghim downed his cup of wine as he struggled to control his temper. "How is three too many?"

"How is it not too many? How much did he spend to acquire those? If he has people on the look out in every province, how much does he have to pay them off? Add the cost of procuring the items, that will run into tens of thousands of nyang. Surely he should have been beggared ..."

"He offered you six hundred, what does that say?" Ghim declined to point out that it was not necessary to hire and send people everywhere. Why were they even using this man if he could not see that? Did he have some talents he did not know of?

"If he is that rich, what is he doing here? He should be up at Hanseong, to secure a post for his son."

"Some rich men I know," he stared hard at his guest to make his point, "are not attracted by the thoughts of an official post. They are too smart to want to risk their necks in the tussle."

"Perhaps but he is suspicious and I intend to investigate fully."

"Your reputation is in ruin, what else can you do?"

"I'm holding a private painting auction tomorrow. He is one of those I invited. He will betray himself, I know he will."

"Where did you get another painting?" Ghim wanted to know.

"Where else?"

The gall of the fool. Was he saying what he thought he was saying? "You are proclaiming yourself a thief!"

"Am I? He will not find anything missing," Chung ignored the insult and smiled as his host stared dumbfounded. "I know all of the paintings and replicates in circulation. Let me tell you one interesting fact about these three paintings. They are not ever replicated. Anywhere," Chung nodded in satisfaction. "I took a good look on that visit. They have not seen the light of day or even passed through the public eye. How did he get his hands on them? There's one explanation; he knows the location of the painter. And he got them straight from him."

"Have you considered that his agents might have been able to get them before anyone else?" Ghim knew if there were promises of good returns, men would do their outmost to gain it.

"All three?" Chung scoffed. "Impossible."

"Why not? Money gets one anything. Even if he protest at the auction which no doubt he will, how are you going to find out if you are right?"

"What makes you think he will challenge me? All he has now are fakes," Chung finally took a sip from his cup. "There is no proof he owns them. If he does protest, he will reveal he has contact with the painter. I don't think he will want to do that. So he will try to find a way to replace them. The easiest way is to apply to the painter himself. That is where you come in."

"What about me?"

"I intended to reveal my mission to you but I see our employers have other ideas," Chung popped a piece of gangjeong into his mouth and masticated slowly, taking his time to answer. His host said nothing but his face darkened. "I know I'm right. I need a few of your men to watch him. I know men like him. Collectors are loathe to lose their treasures but will try to replace them when there's a way."

"So you think he will seek out the painter."

A thief and an expert counterfeiter with an eidetic memory? How else could he substitute the real paintings in so short a time? Chung was forgetting something however. The old man was not some mountain shinseon, wandering by his lonesome. He would have friends to whom he would have displayed his prizes. A rich man did not get by just on business acumen, he would also have other unknown associates who could make life difficult for him and his orders were that he was to stay unobstrusive. Trouble would brew at the auction, he was certain. A thought struck him.

"Why do you think anyone would attend the auction?"

"Because I sought the support of master Gang who has verified the painting. They cannot doubt him," Chung drained his cup and did not see the exasperation on his host's face.

"I have a better idea regards the auction," he said. "Why don't you head north to carry out the orders you were given and let me handle matters here? I'll send the money to you ..."

"What? Are you trying to claim credit? How dare you!" Chung was incredulous.

"Claim credit? Did you not see what you have done?" Ghim hissed, quelling the temptation to shout. "That old man and master Gang are more than acquaintances. He will know that painting is stolen! How are you going to explain why it is with you?"

"What do I have to explain?" Chung said angrily, not liking he was taken to task. "If he suspects it's stolen, why am I not arrested?"

"Don't be a fool, no doubt he's conferring with the old man and gathering proof. Leave this town, head north and let me clean up the mess..."

"I did not make a mess. There is no way he can prove I stole it, there's no stamp on it to say it's his. There are none on the three..."

"He could have made a mark you did not notice! Take my advice, leave. Your orders are more important."

"Made a mark? That is not the usual practise don't you think? All the more ..."

"You have made your point! Let me handle it, I will make sure the credit goes to you if what you say is true. Besides, you would have made your report so how is it possible for me to say otherwise?"

"I have not written in. I want to be sure the quarry is at hand," Chung said smugly.

"That is wise but..."

"No! No excuses. I'm staying to see this through," insisted Chung.

"Even if they cannot prove it's stolen, there is no assurance the old man will do what you say! Are my men to spend months scurrying here and there, following everyone who visits him?" Ghim exclaimed. Not least to say the money he would have to spend on them. There would be no profits. He was not inclined to tell Chung he did not have the manpower. All he had were two men instead of the six he was supposed to hire. The money for the missing four had gone into his pocket, a little extra he appreciated every month.

"I am right," Chung was furious that the man who was supposed to support him was throwing excuses. "Patience reaps rewards! What kind of agent are you?"

"You have created enough troubles here already, your coming here to my house is making it more difficult for me to operate!"

"You invited me here, how is it my fault?!" Chung returned angrily, the accusation was unfair.

"It is your fault when you unraveled the plans that had been laid. Did you not know what you have done?!"

"I know what has been planned and I almost succeeded. I could have reaped double rewards!" the look of disbelief on his host's face was the last straw. Slapping the soban in anger, Chung got up. "I'll do this myself. I don't need you," he declared.

"The results will not be what you seek! For the last time, I'm asking you to let me settle this matter," Ghim warned as Chung turned to leave but was ignored.

For a long moment, he sat thinking after Chung had gone. The man had already upturned careful planning with his overweening pride and was certain to upset even more people back in Hanseong with his wild schemes. If this was how he operated, his skills must have been too profound for his superiors to have tolerated him so far. His latest antics, however, spelled a lot of trouble for him. What could he do to prevent the disaster heading his way?

* * *

**Paper mill**

A finger tapped gently, a white badugal held between thumb and forefinger as their owner contemplated the badukpan. The man seated opposite him cocked his head, scrutinising the battle on the board. Beside them, hands nimbly wound colourful threads, tugging and knotting. A little further away, little bits of wood shavings fell as a knife worked at a stick of pine. Smaller hands worked an oiled cloth over the finished carvings standing in a line on the floor.

The hand lifted and placed the white badugal firmly on the board. Young-joon's expression did not change but he tugged at his moustache and rubbed his nose, shifting as he squinted. Surrounded! How he had hoped attention would be shifted elsewhere where another jip was being contested. Biting back a sigh, he removed his surrounded black pieces and considered his next move. The light from the tunggyong glowed steadily as the board gradually filled. The knife was put down when the last carving was completed, the oil cloth put away and the whole collection was packed away in a small box. A murmur as the boy went round to everyone in the room before he made for the kitchen to wash his hands and then to his room, not at all upset there was no story to be had. There was the prospect of a trip on the morrow.

The two paid not the slightest attention to the older man as he moved closer to watch the game. It would be close, he saw and a smile lit his lips. The game was played out to the end. As the last piece was placed, the two relaxed and grinned at each other.

"Well brother Seo, it looks like you have defeated me," Young-joon counted his pieces on the badukpan as he put them away in the container.

"It is a close match," Yunbok picked up the white badugal, placing them back into the round box, flicking a glance at Suk-kwon who said nothing. "That's what makes it so inspiring," he shifted the badukpan to the empty slot under the desk once all the seeds were put away, along with the containers for the badugal.

"You will find the board even more lively tomorrow," said Suk-kwon as he worked at the muscles of his neck.

"Naturally, with what's turning up at the jangsi jumak." There was an air of merry furtiveness about Young-joon as he slightly bobbed his head.

"Oh is there some special event?" Yunbok affected surprise.

"A private painting auction. According to aboji, we are invited, along with a slew of other merchants but the magistrate isn't asked this time. And the host of this auction ...," Young-joon paused significantly, looking to the other two who merely waited.

"Chung," said Jeong-hyang, not ceasing in her task as she deflated Young-joon's sails unceremoniously.

"Aigooo! There's no getting by women!" he complained in mock dismay as they chuckled.

"When is this auction?" she said.

"Afternoon," Young-joon said promptly. "Aboji is disinclined to attend so whatever that man is planning is not going to happen. Master Gang is pushing for Chung's arrest but aboji said he is letting the matter rest."

"Chung will have a problem. What is he going to fall back on once he realised his quarry is not going the way he wants?" wondered Yunbok.

"The sale goes through, he gets the money, he leaves but," Suk-kwon waved at them airily, "with two more paintings in hand, will he sell them as well at the auction or hold on to them for another purpose?"

"If the price is not what he anticipated, I'd say he would be wise to move on." If it were him, he would move on, Yunbok felt. That was if the man's only target was money.

"There is also word that Ghim invited Chung to his house this afternoon and they seemed to have a fallout."

"I wonder what they do not agree on," Yunbok looked at the maedeup deposited onto the desk. A long red thread with saengjjok and nebeolgamgae at intervals.

"Neither man has favourable traits for collaborative undertaking, no doubt the auction is the subject of their contention." The sight of the maedeup reminded Suk-kwon of the various hangings about Iseul's room. Other images flooded in; the brush on the pilga, a buchae tipping at an angle, the soft touch of a hand.

"How likely is master Ghim to take action?" Unaware of the older man's introspection, Yunbok ran the maedeup through his hand, admiring it minutely.

"Would he not just let the auction go through if he wants Chung out of town?" Young-joon watched Jeong-hyang at work on a second string, this one a pale green in colour.

"Only if Chung is cooperative but he does not seem to be the amiable sort." Why was he thinking of irrelevant thoughts at this time? Running around must be tiring him out, Suk-kwon decided, pushing away the reason why he would do so. He would have to spend some time on meditation. "There will be trouble."

"We'll stay away from the jangsi jumak," Yunbok glanced at Jeong-hyang who he knew was listening intently. "If all goes well, further meetings can be arranged."

"But not here," said Young-joon, assured when his friend nodded. "Is it wise to maintain relations if master Um is affiliated to the faction?"

"The only shallow excuse we can use is to blandish the Hyun-su incident to limit contact but much depends on what we will learn tomorrow."

"Will three men be enough?" Young-joon directed the question at Suk-kwon, curious that the older man had a dreamy air about him.

"That's the best I can rustle up since two others will be keeping an eye on the auction," the older man shook himself. "It's been a tiring day ..."

"I'm not surprise. Do you know what master Park proclaimed himself to be at the gibang today?" Young-joon laughed . "He publicly announced himself to be Iseul's gibu!"

A moment of silence as the others stared in amusement at Suk-kwon who crossed his arms defensively.

"That will certainly rouse her ire," murmured Jeong-hyang, well aware of Iseul's pride.

"I don't have a choice. Sooner or later, it has to be done. How else am I to have the excuse of dropping in on her as and when I like?" Recalling the biting remarks passed by Iseul, all the cotton wool of daydreams disappeared. Did she have to be so sharp about it?

"She knows that, but it's your arbitrary actions that's giving her no time to prepare," she finished the last knot on the second string. "She does not much like surprises, especially when her independence is threatened."

"Well, it's done," huffed Suk-kwon defensively, ignoring Yunbok's chuckles, holding back his desire to declare he had no intention of impinging on Iseul's freedom.

"Something to sleep upon, I'm sure," grinned Yunbok. "It's third watch."

"True, I can use some rest," agreed Young-joon as he got up. "How is it like to be a gibu?" he could not resist teasing the older man as he followed him to the door.

"Do you want to sleep on the porch?"

"Aigoo! How rude! It is a legitimate question."

"Looks like it's the porch for you..,"

Yunbok looked after them in humor as they bickered all the way to the house. Closing the door, he locked it and did his nightly routine of checking all the doors as Jeong-hyang laid aside her work and went to the back room. P'ado was sleeping soundly, he saw as he checked the boy's room. Assured all was secured, he went to the back room. In companionable silence, they carried out the nightly ritual before turning in.

"Do you still think those two are significant?" she said as they laid in the dark.

"I do but it's just one of many conjectures," he felt his eyes drooping for he was tired from the day's work. "If it gets too complicated ..."

"I know," she said sombrely. They would have to cut off further contact. The thought did not distress as much as she thought it would. "I'm so nervous I don't think I'll be able to sleep."

There was no response, she leaned in closer to hear his even breathing. Asleep. It was not surprising. With crops due to be harvested soon, there was more work to be done to prepare for the coming winter and he was laboring from morning till late afternoon. Reaching across, she pulled the quilt to cover him further and settle down herself, thinking of dimly remembered faces from the past before dropping off to sleep herself.

* * *

**Korean Words**

_badukpan - gameboard_

_bandaji - chest to store clothes/blanket/books/documents_

_bukeotguk - dried Pollack soup_

_chantak - cupboard shelves_

_choktae - candle stand_

_dure pungjang - farmer band_

_gangjeong - crisp sweet cookie which can be covered with beans, pine nuts, seasme, pine pollen, dyed boiled rice_

_gibu - men who provide protection and support to gisaeng they favored_

_guangjang - window (latticed) usually set midway in wall, for lighting_

_hojang - official who oversee gisaeng in the district_

_kongnamulguk - soy bean sprout soup_

_jaecheopguk- small clam soup_

_jip - intersecting points on a baduk gameboard_

_maedeup - decorative knots_

_olgaengitguk - small fresh water snail soup_

_seonjitguk - ox blood soup_

_seohwadang - office of the gov / county magistrate (amost the same as dongheon (east house) in provincial admin compound_

_yeonsang - side table to store writing materials and paper_


	12. Chapter 12

**Baengno 1787**

Master Um hurried through the streets, lengthening his stride as far as his legs would go. Impatiently, he tried to dodge those in his way as best he could. There was still plenty of time but he wanted to make sure he had made appropriate preparations. The eastern gates came into sight and he almost ran through them, wishing he had a horse so he could get to his destination speedily. His gat wobbled with the unconscious force of his gait as he hurried along the road. Finally, he turned into the courtyard of the jumak and trotted to his room. Removing his shoes, he called before opening the door.

"You're awake, where is Jinya?" he said to the young man who was pulling on his beoseon.

"Still asleep perhaps. I didn't see her this morning," he watched as the older man opened the bandaji.

"Get me some water to wash," he reached for a small pouch tucked under a pile of jackets. "And wake Jinya if she's still sleeping. We have to be on our way soon," he added as the younger man moved to the door.

Closing the door quietly behind him, he walked down the corridor, turned the corner and stopped two doors down. Calling softly at the door, he waited. There was no response. Further calls produced no result. Where was she? Had she gone out? He was about to look for the tavernkeeper when the door opened.

"You took long enough," he scolded. "Ajoshi is back, you should be preparing to ... are you sick?" he said with some concern as she held a cloth to her face and sneezed. There was a wan look to her face.

"I don't feel well," she confessed, sniffling amd sneezed again.

"I'll get the physician." Did she catch a chill? She grabbed his sleeve as he turned to go.

"No, it's all right. I just feel a little tired. I'll just sleep for the day so please inform ajoshi I can't go to this meeting," she mumbled through the cloth.

"Are you sure?" he felt she ought to see a physician, it would ease his worry.

"Yes, I'm certain. Rest will do me good. Go on, oppa," she made a shooing gesture. "Oppa," she frowned as he hesitated. "The others can look out for me."

"All right," he gave in reluctantly, looking at the closed door for a moment before getting the water. After stopping by to have a brief chat with one of the troupe out in the backyard, he returned to the room to find the older man looking over his clothes. Definitely a very special meeting if ajoshi was selecting his best. On learning that his sister was ill, worry and disappointment took the place of pleased expectation.

"Ajoshi, I don't think she's very sick but she does not look fit to travel," he said quickly to forestall the older man as he put aside the jacket he was holding, his intention to look in on his sister clear on his face. "Perhaps she could attend another day?"

"This is a very important meeting she cannot miss. You are absolutely sure, Dong-min?" he sighed when the young man nodded. "Perhaps she can come here later. Yes, that will do," he turned back to his clothes.

"Who will come here, ajoshi?" Dong-min was curious why his uncle seemed determine for them to see someone.

"You'll know soon. You have better get dressed and wait outside, we'll be setting off in a while."

Throwing his uncle another puzzled look, Dong-min pulled on his coat and gat, checking he had secured his money pouch before going out. As he strolled to the dining area of the jumak, he thought over the mystery of this person they were going to meet. Was this the elusive person their uncle had been seeking all these years? It would be splendid if it was so. Their ceaseless wandering from one province to the next would come to an end. Sometimes he wondered if it had something to do with his father's death. Their uncle had not said much, only that they had to look for someone. Even after they had grown older, it had remained a mystery and more confusing.

From bits and pieces they had picked up from overheard conversations, the search might have been just a job their uncle had taken up for a livelihood. But that made even less sense since they were a traveling troupe. The only thing they did know for certain was that they did not have to scramble so hard for a living. Somehow or other, their needs were always met. The years rolled on and it became part of their daily lives, a seemingly mundane thnakless endless task.

He paused at the courtyard. If their uncle's task was at an end they would go home. But where was home? There used to be a small house, he remembered, in a village near Anseong. Was it still there? He had vague memories of a hot stove, a scolding woman, the aroma of food, chasing fowls in the courtyard, cold nights, talking to aboji. What strange conversations they were, he had never understood what his father was saying most of the time. Aboji. Omoni. It had been a long time he thought of her and a pang hit him. Who was looking after the graves? Ah, unfilial son that he was. He sat down at the porch and was lost in memories. A hand prodded at his shoulder, rousing him with a start.

"I'm sorry, ajoshi, were you calling me?" he got to his feet apologetically.

"Come along," the older man said, eager to get to the Gunbul jumak and hurried out of the courtyard

They took the path that led to the south-eastern main road at a steady pace, mingling with the traffic along the road. It was a silent journey for each was occupied with his own thoughts. Noisy and hectic was the Gunbul jumak when they finally reached it an hour later. Travellers crowded the dining area, strangers to one another sharing whatever space there was to tuck into their meals and drinks. Were they here? He looked at what seemed like a sea of faces as he stood at the courtyard and did not notice someone coming up to him.

"Are you master Um?"

"Yes, you are?"

The tall stranger before him bowed and gestured. "I'm Park. Please, this way."

They followed the man who rounded the corner of the courtyard, headed opposite the dining area, past the lodges where the lunch crowd had spilled over and to the backyard where a solitary house stood a distance away. The noise from the jumak was muted, a buzz of sound like those from a bee hive. Calling aloud, their guide stepped to the porch and opened the door of the daecheong for them. There was only one person in the room. Dong-min nearly bounced off the back of his uncle when he came to a abrupt stop. Why did he stop? He peered over his uncle's shoulder.

"Please, take a seat, master Um," Yunbok bowed in greeting.

"Mr Seo, is it?" his uncle did not move. "I thought ..."

"Your expectations are clear but there are some matters to clarify."

"Is she here at all?" Dong-min stared at the byeongpung that stood at the back of the daecheong as his uncle asked anxiously. Was there someone behind it?

"Eventually. Please," Yunbok waited till they had seated themselves on the totchari. "This is a close friend, master Park," he introduced as Suk-kwon closed the doors and sat down.

"What is it that you wish to know?" master Um said, his eyes flicking to the byeongpung.

"Who are you?" Yunbok did not see the point of wasting any more time and headed straight into the most important question.

"Then you do not think my name is Um," a light lit his eyes. She would know that, he knew. "You are right. My family name is Heo. I am Heo Bae. Um is my benefactor's family name," he saw that Yunbok did not seem surprised.

"Benefactor. Do you owe him a blood debt?"

"I don't. It's some quirk of the man I signed a contract with, he wants the kkokdusoe of the troupe to bear his name."

"That is a strange stipulation. Would you know the reason for it?"

"I'm afraid not. I came across him in Hanseong and we struck up a conversation. After learning of my intentions to look for a relative, he offered me a contract."

Came across the man in Hanseong. Yunbok doubted it was a chance encounter. A glance at Suk-kwon who shook his head slightly; he was not clear about that either. Watching them, Dong-min felt uneasy. Did they know something about his uncle's employer? There was nothing on their faces to give him any hints. He turned his gaze back to Yunbok. Soo-jin was right in her conjecture that Mr Seo came from Hanseong. He wasn't sure about the other suggestion of a farmer. Despite his frail build, he did not think he should take the other man lightly for he had noted the way he moved, it piqued his interest for it was rare to see such disciplined bearing.

"What is this contract?"

"We have a concurrent desire to look for those who are missing. In return for helping him, he makes sure our journey is as easy as he can make it," Heo Bae could hardly stifled his impatience. Where was she?

Yunbok almost smiled at the simplistic ploy. There was hardly any need to use specially hired people for the task. "You have reason to believe the relative you're looking for is part of my family. Why?"

"She resembles someone I know very well. I will speak to her before I say anything further," Heo Bae felt it was time he should verify she was there.

"One question. What is the name of this relative's father?"

"Im Ju-seok."

Yunbok said nothing but looked towards the byeonpung. The rest was up to her. A rustle was heard. To Heo Bae and Dong-min's surprise, a boy walked out. As if aware he had caused a minor sensation, P'ado grinned and bowed before he marched to Suk-kwon's side. Dong-min looked expectantly at the byeongpung and a woman appeared. Her gaze was fixed curiously on Heo Bae who returned the favor. He craned to see his uncle's face and was astonished by the happiness and tears in his eyes. Who was this women to evoke such a response? Older than him, with tan robust grace.

"Ajoshi Heo," she bowed. Ajoshi Heo? Dong-min stared at her. "I thought it is you."

"Sojo," Heo Bae reached out hesitantly as Dong-min visibly started at that name. Yes, flesh and blood, he stared at the hand he grasped, feeling the roughness of the palm. Ah, where were the little smooth hands that patted his face and tweaked his fingers? The sweet voice that counted the paper grasshoppers, the eyes that twinkled with joy and laughter and tears. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"I'm .. glad to see you are doing well," he could not think of anything to say even as thousands of words rose within.

"You are not as I remember you, ajoshi," she said sadly. Face to face, she could see he was a much older version of the laughing young man who had taken care of her. Black was fading into grey, weary lines on his face. She felt strangely remote even though she was happy to see him. It must be the shock.

"Twenty-two years it has been, how can I remain the same?" he choked, patting her hand before letting it go and turned away to dab at his eyes.

"Ajoshi, I had thought of looking for you and the rest years ago," she said once he had composed himself. "I abandoned the idea once I considered the enormity of it but you did not."

Why did you do it? The question hovered between them.

"Yes, there are compiling reasons," he understood her bewilderment at his taking up the task for he was no blood relation of hers. Her father would have been the logical choice. "Compiling reasons," he repeated and turned to thump a puzzled Dong-min on the back. "He is one of them."

"I don't understand," she did not know this young man, why was he the reason Heo Bae had to seek her out?

"Sojo ...," Heo Bae hesitated. "You are not the only one of the Im family. Dong-min is your younger brother."

* * *

**Village jumak**

As midday approached in earnest, more and more people trickled into the jumak. Peddlers and merchants, all eager to spend a few coins on a quick bowl to satisfy their hunger. A number of new comers asked about room vacancy. With Chuseok drawing near, more and more traders were flocking in to peddle their wares. Loath to lose opportunities, most ended up sharing a room. A few men looked over the crowded dining area. Hardly any empty tables or space to be seen. They made their way to the guest quarters which were already lined with diners. After a search, they squeezed themselves into the corner space they found and waited patiently for the tavenkeeper or one of the helpers to come by. It was a long wait but they were not put out, chatting quietly among themselves. Presently, their orders were taken. It took even longer for their meals to arrive and still, they sat at ease, unlike several others who were clearly raring to resume their quest to find empty rooms elsewhere.

Presently, the crowd thinned and the corridor of the guest quarters became deserted. The little group took their time with their drinks, lounging lazily. On seeing there was no one about, one of the men got up and headed for the door of a room further down. When there was no response to his call, he tried the door. Locked. Returning to his companions, he muttered something. The group got to their feet and moved to the dining area. One of them wandered off and then came running back, gesturing to the yard near the stables. There was something to see! As one, the group went to take a look. Ah, it was a troupe practising their art. They settled down to watch.

* * *

**Gunbul jumak**

"Younger brother?" Jeong-hyang repeated blankly, staring at Dong-min even as he gaped at Heo Bae.

"Ajoshi, how is that possible?!" he said when he found his voice. "How is it I have another sister?"

"Another sister?" How many siblings did she have? She could hardly credit what she was hearing.

"A younger brother and a sister, Soo-jin," said Heo Bae.

"Aboji .. remarried?" she said blankly.

"Listen, both of you. This is what I learnt from him the day he died," Heo Bae took a deep breath. It was going to be unpleasant.

Ju-seok was the kkokdusoe of the original troupe that comprised of his wife, Hee-jin and Heo Bae. During those days, they had not wandered beyond Gyeonggi province. Their stomping grounds were usually in the major marketplaces of Gwangju, Gyoha and Anseong. Income was steady and their lives satisfactory. Things changed after Hee-jin fell ill, a few years after the birth of Sojo. Despite seeking the aid of the doctors in the province, she was not getting better. Desperate to find a way to heal Hee-jin, they had gone to other provinces, starting with the Jindu market in Pyeongando for it was famed for the medicinal products. Surely there would be physicians who could help his wife, Ju-seok reasoned, but it came to no naught. Refusing to give up, they had chased down every available lead there was even as Hee-jin steadily worsened.

She finally succumbed to the illness and her death devastated Ju-seok. He was never the same after that. Instead of resuming their usual tour in season, he chose to lead the troupe off the beaten path. Empathising with his sorrow, the troupe had complied, returning to winter quarters of their homes after a series of journeys that took quite a toll on the older members. Ju-seok himself took to drink, neglecting the young daughter. Heo Bae took under her under his charge. Quarrels had erupted between them because of this. When Sojo was eight, Ju-seok suddenly announced she was to be sent away to distant relatives as he could not take care of her properly. Despite Heo Bae's protests, he was insistent and one day, Sojo was gone.

What took her place a few days later astonished everyone for Ju-seok turned up with a woman, Su-yeo, whom he claimed to have hired to help with the chores. A month later, he married her. It brought about a change; they resumed their usual circuit in Gyeonggi. Heo Bae had not understood Ju-seok's decision until he realised Su-yeo was enceinte. Dong-min was born and a few years later, Soo-jin. Life had continued but Heo Bae knew Ju-seok was anything but happy. With a wife and two children, what was there to be upset over? He thought Ju-seok should ask Sojo to return since he had once again established a stable home but the other man was full of excuses every time he asked about her.

"All his explanations were reasonable so I did not press very hard," Heo Bae said heavily. "The truth came out on his death bed. He confessed he had sold his eldest daughter to the gibang. I was horrified and angry. Much as I wanted to castigate him, he was already dwindling away. Combined with what I have perceived of his life through the years, I held my tongue and listened. He said she reminded him too much of Hee-jin. To look at her everyday was to cut fresh wounds and he could not bear it. In drunken despair, he made a contract with the gibang yeosa one night and accordingly brought Sojo there a few days later."

Was she going to faint? Her face was so white, Yunbok involuntarily reached out even as she blindly groped for his hand. He glanced at Dong-min, whose face was just as pale, disbelief as plain as the day. He did not doubt it was the truth Heo Bae spoke and ached for her. Busticated were all her assumptions about her father, the reason she was sold.

"So the reason we have been moving about through the years..," Dong-min said faintly.

"Yes, to look for her. I learnt she was sold as a concubine to a wealthy merchant in Hanseong but disappeared after his death," Heo Bae knew the young man was not quite absorbing what he had heard. The worst was yet to come. "What he did was a moment of folly but he was not in it alone. Su-yeo, was also a part of it."

"What?" What was he saying? Dong-min did not understand. What did omoni had to do with it?

"Su-yeo was the gisaeng he fell in with when she came across him in one of his drunken bouts. In her, he saw his salvation and from her, she fed a steady stream of poison into his ear which took root readily. Combined with his pain and sorrow...," Heo Bae sighed.

"How can that be?!" Dong-min said angrily. "Omoni told me aboji freed her because he loved her."

"Do you not remember the quarrels they had? Did you not see his unhappiness?" Heo Bae bowed his head wearily. "His perpetual grief was obvious to everyone. We did not understand it when it seemed he had recovered from his attachment to wine. Why else would he marry?"

"No, you're not saying...," Dong-min shook his head, refusing to believe it.

"He married her because she was with child," Heo Bae said relentlessly. "She had no desire to have her child inherit her status, neither did she want to foster a child not her own. Sojo was an obstacle and a way out to her."

"No! That's not true!" shouted Dong-min, hands clenched.

"I do not have to convince you, you were old enough to see. Judge for yourself with what you have learnt today. I do not regret I spoke the truth," Heo Bae said quietly.

The young man fell silent, a stubborn cast to his face. It could not be true, he told himself. His mother could not have done it but unbiddened, images of his parents fighting came to mind, the sadness of his father whenever he looked at his children. It had always been the thought that something about himself was the cause of his father's unhappiness. No matter what he did, however hard he studied, there was never a smile for him. How bewildered he had been by his father's disinterest. Did aboji blame him for the sale of his eldest daughter?

Chills seem to permeate Jeong-hyang's entire body as she tried to cast out the calamitous ugly truth but she could not. Why did he have to upset the precious memories of her father? "You need not have done it," she said coldly, the depth of her anger was clear to Heo Bae. "You could have left it alone, why did you have to turn over what's beneath?"

"Sojo...," he said imploringly but she ignored him and rushed out of the daecheong, Yunbok went after her. Suk-kwon reached to close the doors that were not quite shut properly in Yunbok's haste.

P'ado made as if to follow them but Suk-kwon grasped his arm and shook his head when the boy looked at him. Comprehending he should not disturb his parents, the boy considered the other two men curiously even as he turned over in his head what he had heard.

"What happened to the old troupe?" asked Suk-kwon.

"I disclosed what I learned after the funeral and of my intention to search. I went to the gibang of the town where she was sold and was told she had been sent to the institution for training. Following the trail, I went to Hanseong. Her disappearance meant the search will take years. I returned to inform the old troupe of my findings. They have not the heart for it, even if they deplored Ju-seok's actions. I made a decision to form a new troupe, those who prefer to wander than to stay fixed," Heo Bae heaved a heavy sigh. It was a heartbreaking farewell for the group which had been together for so many generations.

"You chose to take the children with you."

"Yes," Heo Bae grasped Dong-min's shoulder. "Should I find her, they ought to be there. To know they have an elder sister who should have been with them." Faint sounds of weeping could be heard, discomfiting the men. P'ado fidgetted, desiring to go out to see if there was anything he could do to comfort Jeong-hyang but Suk-kwon kept a firm hand on him.

"A search that will take years is not easy, how did you manage it?" Would he reveal his liaison to the faction? Suk-kwon watched the other man intently. Distracted from his thoughts, Dong-min listened.

"I did not try to hide the purpose of the troupe to those who responded to my recruitement drive. It was slow but eventually, I have enough recruits. We went back to Hanseong and stayed for a time, gathering as much information as we could. Someone heard of our quest and asked to see me."

"The man who stipulated in the contract that the name Um was to be used?" It was a good plan as far as Suk-kwon could see. "A rich man? Yangban?"

"Rich he is definitely. I think..," Heo Bae hesitated as he recalled his meeting with his sponsor; a pampered epicene look, dressed in silks, his gattken did not look they were made of glass. "Yes, he could be Yangban, there is the way he speaks. His accent is akin to master Seo's. He offered to fund the search. I was puzzled for I do not know him or why should he bother with a poor travelling troupe. He said he himself was on search, for someone who was lost, a close friend. All his attempts to locate him have failed but he was not about to give up. On learning I'm on similar quest, he thought the chances of finding him would be better with a wandering troupe. It was an opportunity I was loathed to lose, I do not see why I should refuse to help another so I accepted."

"Did he also tell you to procure what you need from shops of the towns you passed?"

"Yes, he said he has business associates almost everywhere. I only need to go to specific shops of the bigegr towns, tell them my name and they will provide," Heo Bae thought of his own scepticism. "I had thought perhaps a identity tag would be more credible but he said the name would do." Was it because a tag could be used against the employer? Suk-kwon wondered.

Ah, so that was why it was so easy to obtain supplies. Dong-min nodded unconsciously as a mystery was cleared up.

"Your own search has ended, how will it affect the contract?" Were there other clauses? Dong-min straightened, seeing where Suk-kwon was heading.

"The contract ends when mine is completed," Heo Bae saw their doubts. "It is true. I know I may not succeed or I may decide to give up, so the contract is null after a number of years have gone by. Ten, which means this winter is the last I can claim supplies. However, it is fulfilled the moment I succeed. I checked it very carefully before I signed it and it is confirmed by his business associate in Uiryeong."

"Who is this business associate?" Suk-kwon was sure he knew who it was.

"Master Ghim. I have already informed him and he said he will let my employer know."

"I see. I'm curious, who is it your sponsor is looking for?"

"The renown painter, Hyewon Shin Yunbok."

"Isn't that what Chung claimed to be?" said Dong-min, astonished to hear that the painter was whom his uncle was looking for.

"As it turned out, he isn't." Should he voice out his opinion on this matter? "I know something of Hyewon. Back when we were in Hanseong, there were rumors that a certain nobility is looking for him. I do not know what this painter had done but I certainly would not want such a person to come in search."

"Who's the nobility?" Dong-min wanted to know, concerned with Heo Bae's air of fear.

"Nobody you want to be near to! Don't ask further unless you wish to be eaten by the tiger," Heo Bae warned as the younger man drew back in astonishment at his vehemence.

"Tiger?" Suk-kwon pretended not to know what Heo Bae was talking about. "He must be a powerful Yangban then."

"Even worst," muttered Heo Bae, wishing he had not inadvertently found out who was behind his sponsor. "But she has nothing to do with me now, I have found Jeong-hyang, the contract is fulfilled. They can find someone else to take up the task."

Suk-kwon did not think they would need to trouble themselves very much if they had such groups on the lookout. Who else would they have hired? Peddlers? Vagabonds? There was very little chance that any of them would find their target however. "What are your plans?" he said, bringing the subject back to the one that was of utmost importance.

"I had thought ..," Heo Bae paused to assemble his thoughts. "If she were alone, I would bring her back with us. A family," he looked at Dong-min who stared at the floor. "Since she has already settled down," he nodded to P'ado, "there are only a few things to resolve. Getting the sisters to know each other and one other matter."

"Speaking of which, where is the younger sister?"

"She's ill and resting at the jumak we are putting up at. Perhaps..," Heo Bae looked at the closed doors of the daecheong and heaved another sigh.

"Give her some time," murmured Suk-kwon sympathetically.

* * *

**Village jumak**

Bending to floor level, Chung squinted an eye, scrutinising carefully as he ran his gaze across the floor. Satsfied that not a speck of dirt could be seen, he laid out the totchari in parallel rows and made adjustments so that there was enough space for each person. What else was there? He looked around the room which had been tidied up, trying to spot anything that should not be there. Satisfied all was in readiness, he sat down to wait, pulling out a book from the bandaji. Presently, someone called at the door. Ah! One of his guests have arrived.

"You're early," he said with some surprise when he saw master Gang.

"As the auctioneer, how can I be late?" Gang stepped past him.

"True, true," Chung agreed amiably. "Shall I call for refreshments?" he said politely but the other man declined.

"There is something you should know," Gang said as he glanced at the laid out mats. "There will be few attendees for the auction."

"What about old master Han?" Chung was not at all put out by the news.

"He is not coming and he put in no bids," Gang affected surprise by the anger and disappointment that twisted Chung's face. "But you are looking forward to his attendance?"

"It doesn't matter," Chung realised he was showing his feelings too candidly. "All that matters is the sale of the painting."

"On the matter of the painting, are you sure you want to continue with the auction?" Did the man turn a tad pale? Gang pretended not to notice.

"What do you mean?"

"I examined the borders," Gang pulled out the painting and pointed to the edges. "There are signs that this was once mounted."

"What of it?" Chung said dismissively.

"Then there's the mark ...," Gang sat back as Chung snatched the painting away, unrolling it and looked searchingly everywhere.

"What mark?" Chung looked up after a moment to meet the cold eyes of the other man.

"There isn't any mark," Gang watched as red suffused Chung's face when he realised he was tricked. "I know every painting that old master Han has. That is stolen property you are trying to sell off."

"You said it yourself, there is no stamp or mark to prove ownership so how can you say this is stolen goods?" Chung said angrily.

"That is true," Gang agreed and leaned forward. "But I am not the only one who has seen the painting. Old master Han likes to hold literary gatherings of his own, which often includes the magistrate, whenever he has something of value to share. No one of this town owns a replicate of that you are holding now. There are no replicates of any kind, anywhere," he emphasized.

"How did he get this painting then?!" demanded Chung.

"Really, sir. Everyone knows of old master Han's passion for this painter's works. When one is devoted and has the means, would he not try to acquire the item?"

"If you are so sure this is stolen, why did you bother to agree ..."

"I wish to ascertain I am right and if you had checked carefully, I did not use my own seal on the contract. The seal that which I used is void and belongs to no one," Gang plucked the painting from Chung's sagging hands. "It is best not to be a yangban carrying a jige. A gamasot is and will always be a gamasot." Rolling up the painting, he tucked it into his sleeve and went to the door. "One other matter," he paused at the doorway. "I misinformed you on the number of guests who would be coming. Given what I have just told you, I am sure you know how many will turn up," he closed the door quickly, disinclined to witness the other man's distress.

* * *

**Gunbul jumak**

There had been no further outburst of weeping for a while but Yunbok continued to pat her back soothingly. It was fortunate that they were screened from prying eyes by a stretch of bush clover. How tongues would wag were they in clear sight of the jumak. Patiently, he waited for her to say something. Anger at her father, he understood but would she put the blame on her younger siblings? That would not be her. Reconciliation was the farthest thought in her mind right now but she would come round to it eventually.

"Why did he have to come?" she said finally.

"Out of love and justice," he said. There was nothing more compiling than those for a man to search for so long.

"Both of those hurt," a sob caught in her throat.

"Hyangya," he sighed. "When has there ever been gains without pain?"

"I do not think the gains are worthwhile," she said angrily.

"For now," he was not at all dismayed by her resentment. 'But later ..."

"No," she shook her head.

"Neither of them know the truth, are you being fair to them?" he pointed out gently. "At the most, you should meet your sister."

"I can't."

"That's your hurt talking now," he wiped away her tears as she drew back. "Just meet her before you decide anything," he said encouragingly. "Hyangya, you will regret it if you don't."

Silence fell as she said nothing. Knowing she was considering and sorting out her thoughts, he held his tongue and only rubbed his thumb on her palm. Once she had vented her anger and sorrows, she should be calmer though she would not overcome her resentment anytime soon. Getting to know her siblings would help.

"I suppose..," she fought to hold down the bitterness.

"A step is better than nothing, come," he got to his feet and offered his hand. "You would not care you do not look beautiful now, do you?" he said teasingly.

"How ugly do I look?" she tried to wipe the signs of tears from her face, allowing his attempt at distraction.

"When has a wounded phoenix never tug at the heart?" he pulled her to the doors of the daecheong and opened them before she could change her mind.

Blinking her eyes rapidly, she sat down again and tears almost welled up again at the anxiety on Heo Bae's face. Love and justice. An apt description that fit ajoshi Heo perfectly.

"Where is... the youngest?" she said before Heo Bae could say anything.

"She has taken ill, that's why she's not here," relief coloured his voice. If she was asking after the sister, then there was hope. "I was thinking that perhaps you could come down to the jumak to visit her."

Should they made a visit that afternoon? She glanced at Suk-kwon who nodded and she was surprised. Did they not agree to avoid the jangsi jumak that day? Her gaze shifted to Yunbok who merely smiled. It was her decision, he felt. It mattered not if they were to run into Chung. What could he suspect them of? They had nothing to do with the auction.

Dong-min was not sure how adversely Soo-jin would react and he almost voiced an objection. But how long could they keep it from Soo-jin? He kept silent.

"Master Heo, did you not say there is one other matter to discuss besides the meeting of the sisters?" reminded Suk-kwon.

"Yes, but I require the presence of all three," Heo Bae put an emphasis on the number. That decided Dong-min, there was no point trying to delay the reunion.

"Let us return to the jangsi jumak," he said, nodding neutrally to Jeong-hyang who understood that he was merely accepting the situation for the moment. Just as she was.

The decision made, they rose to their feet and made their way to the courtyard of the jumak. An uncomfortable silence fell on them as they waited for Suk-kwon to settle the bill with the tavernkeeper. That action itself was a signal to the man seated close by; he would follow at a distance until the moment he was needed. Satisfied all was well, Suk-kwon returned to the group and they headed for the road to the jangsi jumak.

Seeking to break the ice, Heo Bae tried to to learn all he could of Jeong-hyang but limited his questions to her family for he knew it would take more than a afternoon to hear her tale. Her reluctance to reveal where she stayed was puzzling but he did not press for the information. The boy, he learned, was adopted. A bright fellow from his demeanor. He could not help but threw a few questions to Yunbok, curious about his background. Dong-min said nothing, being more interested to listen.

The journey went by easily. Just as they turned into the courtyard of the jangsi jumak, a most curious sight laid before them. A number of men and a few women had gathered at the dining area, looking intently into the corridor of the guest lodgings and muttering excitedly among themselves. Shouts and thumps came to their ears. What was going on? At the edge of the crowd, Suk-kwon tapped one of the onlookers on the shoulder to ask what was attracting their attention.

"A fight!" the man said. "It's that Chung fellow. He must have offended somebody because there are men looking for trouble with him." A wail from the tavernkeeper when a table went flying. Who was going to pay for the damage? No one paid her any heed except for her helpers who hurried to pick up the table.

A knowing look passed between Suk-kwon and Yunbok. Did Ghim send the men? Dong-min craned his head to see even as Heo Bae muttered in horror.

"What's Soo-jin doing out here?! I thought she's resting?"

"What?!" Dong-min could hardly believe it. "Where're the others?"

"That woman behind those men?" Suk-kwon had noticed a girl cowering in the corner and was puzzled she did not run away. The corridor before her was empty, she could run to the safety of the crowd. "What is she doing?" he said when she darted forward. To run around the fighting men, he realised.

"Make way!" Dong-min said furiously, pushing through the crowd. Suk-kown and Yunbok followed him through the space he made. P'ado made to follow but Jeong-hyang grabbed hold of him firmly even as he wriggled and jumped, trying to see.

They burst through to find Chung was surrounded but he was fighting better than expected. One of the men went flying when he rushed at Chung and was kicked. He tumbled off the porch onto the ground below. The rest charged at him en masse but was knocked back by the soban he was holding. By putting his back to a door, Chung had prevented them from encircling him but he was unable to block their punches and kicks completely. Bruises had reddened his face but he was not ready to give up yet.

"Get out of my way!" shouted Dong-min when he found his passage blocked. It would have been better if he had said nothing for it attracted the men's attention to him. Thinking he was coming to Chung's aid, they divided up accordingly.

"Well, this is just splendid," drawled Suk-kwon when he found himself targeted.

Yunbok said nothing but tensed. One way or another, they were involved. His opponent was grinning hugely after a look at him and twirled the short stick he was holding. A shout and the man swung. Ducking the swing, he struck the edge of his jwilbuchae into the man's ribs and sent him reeling to the ground in shock as he clutched at his side at the overwhelming pain. Another went tumbling hard when Suk-kwon upended him against the porch and Dong-min sent his yawing into the pillar. In the midst of this, there came a shout that made no sense to Yunbok.

"Balgannoran! Balgannoran!"

As the three looked about them, they realised the remaining attackers had succeeded in wounding Chung for there was blood on his coat. Ah, this was murder in broad daylight! Horror rose among the spectators. As if aware of what they had done, the remaining attackers took off, leaving their wounded comrades behind. Dong-min looked about wildly as Suk-kwon rushed to Chung's side. Where was Soo-jin? She was nowhere to be seen! Yunbok frowned and ran down the corridor as Dong-min stared after him before following. Turning the corner, he looked about. Nothing.

"Where is she?!" gasped Dong-min and hurried after as Yunbok trotted to the next corner. As they turned, the sight astonished them. "Jinya, why did you run here?" Dong-min rushed up to her. "Are you hurt?" he looked over her anxiously.

What was she doing? Yunbok looked at the empty birdcage and then at the speck in the sky, heading north-west. Her hands were poised as if she had thrown something into the air. The bird? What was what the words were referring to?

"To whom are you sending the message?" he said as she stared at him, surprised that he had deduced what she was doing.

"What are you talking about?" Dong-min stared at the empty birdcage. Sojo, she had released Sojo. Was not the bird precious to her?

"Chung is not working alone. Who are you?" demanded Yunbok.

* * *

**Korean Words**

_byeongpung - foldable screens_

_totchari - woven mat_


	13. Chapter 13

**Baengno 1787 (3rd**)

Torches flared brightly in the dark, shadows flicked and danced across a crowd of faces. Most stood with bowed heads, wincing at the sound of blows and pain from the men spread on the punishment blocks. The beatings stopped. Over soughing moans, a deep voice barked out questions. The answers were slow and halting but the chief constable waited patiently. When he was done with the prisoners, he directed more questions to a small group that stood apart from the crowd. The hyeongni murmured something after the questioning was over and the chief constable turned to address the crowd, summing up the attack at the jangsi jumak.

Was that how it happened? The crowd murmured assent. After writing down some more notes in his book, the hyeongni nodded to the officer who dismissed the gathering, gesturing to the constables that the prisoners were to be taken away. Vastly relieved, the crowd could hardly wait to leave and streamed out through the pungnamru like a surging wave. The small group left more slowly and was met by a man waiting for them outside the gates. After a brief discussion, they made for the eastern residences.

The gates of the Han residence were opened wide. Old master Han and Young-joon stood waiting for them in the courtyard and invited all to a meal. Dinner was promptly served at the daecheong. After refreshments were put out and the women had returned from the anbang, the meeting at the Gunbul jumak, the attack on Chung at the jangsi jumak and the interrogation were recapped. Since the attackers admitted they were sent by Ghim, the merchant himself would be called up soon to explain his actions.

"Young lady," said old master Han to Soo-jin. She gave a visible start for she was not paying attention. In a state of shock ever since her uncle revealed the purpose of his search, she was preoccupied in watching Jeong-hyang. Her elder sister? To her earlier silent incredulous query, Dong-min had acknowledged the fact. She found it hard to accept. "Yes, sir," she said hastily, nervously winding the ribbons in her hands.

"Would you care to explain why you were carrying out Chung's order?" old master Han's manner was gentle for he knew the girl had suffered a series of upsets for the day.

"I was..," she stuttered, glancing at Dong-min for support but he only wrinkled his brows at her, clearly not happy with her actions. "I was following instructions given to me a year ago."

"Instructions from whom?" Heo Bae did not like what he was hearing. It seemed that someone had been using his charge for mysterious purposes.

"Last winter, we stopped at Muju at Jeollado..," she picked up her stride at He Bae's encouraging nod. "We went to the marketplace and I was looking at the accessories when a man came up to me and engaged in conversation. He said he's a friend of ajoshi's and that he is on a very important secret mission for the royal court. Because he's working alone, he needs help. He gave me the pigeon, saying that someone, an agent, will eventually come to find me. A password will be given so I would know he can be trusted and I was to release the pigeon when this man said so. It will help ajoshi finish his task more quickly."

"Can you describe him?" Heo Bae did not think it could be anyone he knew. He did not see Suk-kwon's glance at Yunbok. Royal court?

"Slightly shorter than you ajoshi, very well dressed. I think he's a merchant. Plump, with a mole on his right brow, his voice a little high pitched," she recalled him rather well for she had thought the man was rather greasy.

"And you took his word for it?" Dong-min could hardly believe his sister readily accepted a stranger's word.

"Ajoshi is already working so hard in his search and still, it has been so many years. There seemed to be no end to our wanderings. Year after year, never once could we call any place home. If I can help to end the task more quickly, why shouldn't I?" she said defensively.

"Why did you not say anything?" Heo Bae said, distressed to hear of her unhappiness. "Never have I heard you speak of a desire to return home."

"If I speak of it, was I to return alone, ajoshi?" she tugged at the ribbons, refusing to look at him. "Would you give up the task for which we have become nomads? A task that oppa and I never understood?"

"No, I will not have given up the task. I will continue on, alone," said Heo Bae firmly. "If you have asked or even once indicated your desire, I will not refuse to send you and Dong-min back to Gyeonggi."

Dong-min felt he had to speak up. "Jinya, have you forgotten? What answer did you give ajoshi when he asked us where we would like to go at the end of every winter?" he saw her hesitation. "Didn't you realise that is ajoshi's concern speaking? I'm sure you do. If you have said home, we would have gone but you knew ajoshi would not go with us. That he would persist in his search and you could not bear the thought of his loneliness. That's why you never uttered the word."

Yunbok glanced at Jeong-hyang but could not see her eyes as she was looking down at P'ado who had gone to sleep in her lap but there was a pensive air about her. "Why were you so sure Chung could be trusted?" he said to break the silence.

"He described accurately what ajoshi did whenever we arrived in towns and villages," said Soo-jin, glad that he brought the subject back on track for she regretted having spoken so candidly. Afraid she had hurt the uncle she had come to regard more as a father. But then she was not hurling accusations at him, only voicing her unhappiness. "He said he knew so much because ajoshi always reported what he did."

What she said was true, Heo Bae thought as he listened to her explanations. Reporting in was one of the clauses and he had done it dutifully asit mainly paved the way to obtain supplies.

"Did he offer payment?" Yun-bok asked curiously.

"I received a stipend whenever I got the grain for Soj... the bird," she corrected herself. What a quirk of fate that she should choose to call the pigeon with her sister's amyeong. Sister. Had she already accepted her because she was thinking this way? This person was the reason for their wanderings and the quarrels between her parents. She should feel resentment but she did not. She was not sure what she felt.

"Chung shouted some words. They sounded like colours," Yunbok looked at the ribbons in her hands.

"Yes," she nodded, holding up the ribbons. Blue, green and black. "I was given a few coloured ribbons to tie on the bird's leg when specified to do so."

"Do you have any idea where the pigeon will head to?" Suk-kwon did not think she would know and was not surprised when she shook her head.

"I suppose we will have to ask the man himself," Young-joon looked to his father. "The physician has advised several days of rest."

"He's here?" Heo Bae was astonished.

"It's the least we can do for the poor man," old master Han said sympathetically, "as he has no friends or family here."

"That is very generous of you, sir," Heo Bae said in admiration. "But is it wise to question an agent from the royal court?"

"That is true," Young-joon agreed hastily and feigned disappoinment.

In the lull, the clear peal of bells for injeong could be heard. The gathering roused themselves for the discourse had been long. Shaking P'ado awake, Jeong-hyang steered him in the direction of the anbang. Soo-jin followed more slowly, exchanging uncertain glances with Dong-min. Heo Bae who gestured encouragingly, hoping the two women would open a dialogue. They themselves followed a servant to the guest quarters of the sarang. Yunbok and Suk-kwon loitered behind, having caught old master Han's signal that they should remain behind. Once the other two vanished from sight, they followed father and son to a detached guest wing near the back garden.

At the room furthest from the back garden, Young-joon called and was answered. Sliding opened the door, he waited for his father and the rest to enter before casting a look around and went in himself, setting the chorong in a corner. The occupant of the room was struggling to sit up for his shoulder was bandaged. Suk-kwon hurried to help.

"How are you feeling?" old master Han asked solicitously.

"Better, sir," Chung nodded his thanks.

"You have done very well. I'm sorry you have to suffer in the process," the old man said apologetically.

"It is my duty, sir. Did it meet expectations?" Chung asked hopefully.

"Witnesses, that message and the prospect of being investigated, yes," Suk-kwon said heartily. "It should displace and ruin Ghim. The magistrate's position will be more secured."

"What was the message?" Yunbok thought over the colours in Soo-jin's hands. "Orange-red signified...?"

"Betrayal," Chung grinned.

"His black marketing, money laundering should come to light," old master Han smiled broadly. "With his trading license revoked, the network in Uiryeong will be disrupted. His employers will have less reason to trust him when they come to know of his embezzlement and removed him."

"Do you have any idea who will take Ghim's place, sir?" Would this uprooting be repeated a few years later, Yunbok wondered. It was much akin to trimming weeds. So much effort had gone into this current scheme that it was gratifying it had succeeded so well. Most of the credit had to go to Chung however. Gangjang in a mudhole, he thought with bemusement as he perused Chung's craggy face with its large nose. What impelled his dedication and loyalty?

"There are a few potential candidates but it will be some time before they can establish a post here."

"Sir, should I vie for the position?" Chung suggested.

"I think you have messed up too thoroughly for them to trust you in such a task," old master Han chuckled appreciatively. "No, return to them with your tail tucked down. You know what to do."

"Ah yes, greedy ambitious fool that I am," grinned Chung. "Stealing is all I'm good for."

"How did you do it?" Young-joon was eager to know. "You played the role so well."

"My master has ever told me that it is best to live the personality and use what's up here," Chung pointed to his head. "If I am to play the role of a foolish vain swindler, I must wear it as befits me. I can see it so clearly in your opinions, young master Han."

"When did I ...?"

"It's on your face, the night of the auction at the gibang," Chung laughed at Young-joon's embarrassment. "It is all right, it means I am doing my part. Though I wish master Seo had been more gentle," he grinned at Yunbok who began to apologise. "No, no, I'm just jesting," he laughed, waving his hand. "It was well played."

"Nevertheless, I am sorry I had to upend you so unkindly," said Yunbok, causing Chung to chuckle further. "Was it an act both of you put on together?"

"Yes," Chung nodded. "I heard someone coming and thought we should not be seen to be friendly so I told her to kick me even as I pretend to silence her. She understood what I was about immediately."

"Women are always good at tricks," muttered Suk-kwon, eliciting amused glances from Yunbok and Young-joon, knowing whom he was referring to.

"What are the chances they will refocus on old master Han?" asked Yunbok anxiously. If there were a third occurance, he felt that he would have to shift elsewhere. It was not right that he compromised the safety of others.

"There will not be a next time," Suk-kwon said confidently, hoping to allay Yunbok's worry. "It was just unfortunate the rest of the items in the bag but those two were missing."

"It does not matter whether they are suspicious or not. That we remain ahead of them is," old master Han could discern what his young friend was thinking of. "We have intentions of diverting them further, to encourage them to waste resources and money not just on this current aspect. There are other affairs they have to look to."

"Is Heo Bae too optimistic in his belief that they will honor the conditions in his contract?" That was one of Yunbok's immediate concerns that he wished to address.

"I do not think so. If there is one trait that stands out from the rest, it is her careful consideration to keep faith among the lower ranks. Heo Bae is merely one of her simplest tools, she has no reason not to keep her word," said Suk-kwon with assurance.

"I see. Then he is free to return home." That was excellent news to Yunbok. "What about Soo-jin?"

"What about her?" Suk-kwon did not think there would be any problems for the girl. "She is of even less note. That the bird meant for another scheme was used will be disregarded in light of the warning although Chung will come in for some censure."

"I can just say by coming here, I exposed Ghim's betrayal," Chung said. "That is, if you have done your job," he gazed at Suk-kwon meaningfully.

"Aigoo! When have I ever let you down?" beetling his brows, Suk-kwon glared.

"If looks could kill, my job will be that much easier," murmured Chung, rousing chuckles from the rest.

"It is late. We should leave him to rest, he had the most difficult time for the last several days," old master Han said. "If there is anything you need, just inform the servants."

"Thank you, sir," Chung said gratefully, glad that he would have some time to unwind before he headed back north.

Along the corridor of the sarang, they dispersed. Instead of heading to his room, Yunbok went to the room usually alotted to Jeong-hyang whenever they spent a night at the Han residence. Would she be alone? Calling softly at the door, he waited. To his questioning look when she opened the door, she shook her head and let him into the room. There was a small covered figure in a bedding. Judging from the tiny whistles P'ado was emitting, he was deeply asleep. It was most amusing to hear the sounds he made when he was in such a state.

"We didn't talk much," she said as she sat down. She had been unable to bring herself to say much to the girl who was her younger half sister.

"First meetings are always awkward. They.. you need time to adjust," he said. Was she feeling better?

"I'm not about to break," she said as she noticed his peering at her. "Are we to continue to meet at the jangsi jumak?"

"I think," he paused and closed his eyes, shifting available options. "Chuseok is several days away. It is a good time to get to know one another."

"No, it's too risky," she protested.

"Hyangya," he chided and she fell silent. "From his words and his standpoint, he knows better than to get too near to those in Hanseong. He will not want to know anything further of their concerns since he has finished his task. Curiosity about me is inevitable, we can only embellish the fiction with enemies for who in Hanseong do not have them? After such a long journey with such an arduous mission he has set upon himself, he will empathise with our desire for solitude. Moreover, you are important to him."

"I hope you are right."

"I'll head back to the village tomorrow morning with Young-joon to hold the school lessons. Stay here with P'ado and get to know them better. There's something important he has to say to the three of you, he will want to settle that as soon as possible."

"What do you think it will be?"

"There are only a few things of note when it comes to family," he nodded as she realised what he was referring to. "Yes. I think, it's something your father wanted you to have." To make up for what he had done.

"It's pointless," she gulped back the sudden rush of tears.

"Be that as it may, it has to be settled to everyone's satisfaction and to finally end it, for Heo Bae. Have pity on the poor man."

"I'm not that heartless!" she pushed at him harder than she meant to.

"I never said you are, just letting your emotions get in your way," he felt her anger thrumming through her. "Sleep on it. You'll feel better."

"You'll scandalise the maids," she said when he removed his gat and coat, laying them aside on the floor.

"They know us by now, what do they care? Sleep," he nudged her to the bedding and blew out the candle as she threw half her quilt over him. Reaching for her hand, he hummed a little in the dark as he thought of a few songs to distract her.

_Mountains on four sides_  
_And enfold by streams_  
_There stand the dwelling of a scholar_  
_On a single acre of land_  
_Facing the sun's rays,_  
_Opening on a southern exposure,_  
_It is by name "Gloomless Eaves."_  
_Lutes and books on the left_  
_And chessmen on the right._  
_I am at leisure whenever I please._  
_In pleasure, I forget my gloom!_  
_How about that?_

Despite his light dismissal on offending the maids, he had no intention of remaining in the anbang and managed to wake up before paru. Carefully, he lifted the arm she had laid across him and rolled out from under the quilt. Tucking the quilt around her, he groped for his gat and coat and silently exited the room. Clapping a hand to his mouth as he yawned, he put on his coat as he shuffled down the corridor and stopped short when he realised he was in his beoseon. Shoes, shoes, where did he leave his shoes? He turned about and returned to the seomdol outside the room. Shaking himself to get rid of the vestiges of sleep, he slipped on his shoes and made for the small gate in the wall separating the anbang and sarang. As he passed through the garden, a rustle near the pavilion caught his attention.

"Who's there?" he challenged for he did not think it was a thief. Whoever it was was not trying to hide.

"My apologies," came Heo Bae's voice, "if I startled you. I came out here for some fresh air."

"Ah, I ahve inadvertently disturbed you, sir," Yunbok bowed and turned to go.

"It's no trouble. Company is always welcome," Heo Bae fell into step beside Yunbok. "How is she?"

"As well as anyone can do under such circumstances. All that is needed is time and opportunity."

"Since we will be staying until spring, we can come to warmer terms," Heo Bae said hopefully. "It will be difficult for us to come down south again for some time." They would be busy establishing a more permanent home, sorting out the troupe and getting used to a regular circuit once they returned to Gyeonggi. It would take at least a couple of years or more if they were to entertain any ideas of another visit.

"I understand, I suggest that we celebrate Chuseok together. Will your troupe be performing at the jangsi?"

"If my assistant managed to come to an agreement with the chongye and the local troupe," he had forgotten to get the outcome of the negotiations from Cheong-soo, Heo Bae realised. Come to think of it, where was the troupe? They were not among the witnesses of the attack at the jangsi jumak. "It will not matter however if we do not get consent, at the most they can enjoy themselves at the festival."

They walked to the daecheong in silence.

"If you are not too tired, perhaps we can talk for a while?" Heo Bae suggested.

"It is fine with me," following the other man's lead, Yunbok sat down at the porch and mentally braced himself for probing questions.

"There is so much to exchange," Heo Bae said. "I really hope to get to know the woman she has become."

"She will want to know the uncle she missed so much," Yunbok said encouragingly. "Often, when she spoke of her childhood, you are the one she mentioned the most."

"I'm not surprised. Her father did not spend much time with her, only bringing her favourite food for her birthdays." And even then, still, Ju-seok often absent himself from the celebration, Heo Bae remembered.

"Does she really resemble her mother?"

"As an adult, yes, the resemblance is more pronounced." How it would break Ju-seok's heart if he should see her. "Perhaps it is just as well he did not live to see her. Just the sight of her would increase his guilt and the truth would not see the light of day."

"It might."

"Yes, perhaps, he might," Heo Bae shook his head. "By then, the children would have their own families and might not be receptive to a conciliation. It's better this way," he paused before saying slowly. "I do not mean to pry but is there a reason why she refuses to reveal the location of her home?"

"There was an incident several years ago. As a gisaeng, there are men who craved more from her than what they were granted. Such a man came and roused trouble for he refused to accept that she is no longer a gongnobi. He kidnapped her but we rescued her before it could get worse. From then on, it was decided not to reveal her location to anyone."

"I see," Heo Bae understood more clearly now why they were so cautious.

"Then there are those with whom I am not on good terms when I was in Hanseong. We have no desire for conflicts for it will not only disrupt our lives but also affect those around us." It was just as well that the older man could not see the wry smile on his lips when he spoke of those in Hanseong, for there was only the one tigress on the prowl. As long as he hear the clicking of her claws and the pound of her paws, he could evade easily.

"Considering the amount of commotion stirred up for the last several days, yes, it is better to be cautious," Heo Bae sighed. "I myself am looking forward to a single place for the rest of the time that is left to me."

"Sir, how can we repay you for all that you have expended these years?" Yunbok cocked his head as the beat of the drums sounded. Paru.

"Finding her and to see all three reconcile is enough compensation. That is all I ask," another sigh.

"I sincerely hope so."

"Why do you say that?" Heo Bae was astonished. Did the young man think his aspirations less than true?

"I am just envisioning, sir," Yunbok said slowly, hoping the older man would not take umbrage with what he was about to say. "if, you do not achieve the desired closure, that none of them wishes to uphold their blood ties, would you continue to hold fast to the guilt of your own failures to her?"

"That is ..," pain blossomed in Heo Bae at the mention of his failures, his fists clenched involunatrily. "It is true. I blamed myself for failing her. I should have insisted in keeping her with the troupe instead of thinking I have no place to speak. That he is her father, what am I? I disregarded that all are family for we have been together for so many generations. I should not have let his false concern moved me but he cried so and was deeply regretful for, what I thought, his neglect of her. My protests were weak," his sigh held a wealth of tristful regrets. "Whenever I visit gibang in all the towns I've gone to, the sight of the women in entertainment has ever caused pain. The thought of how her life must have been have is always foremost on my mind and I cursed myself."

"Sir, you have to put away those reproaches. They are already long past and of no import. To hold on to them is to render empty the years of effort," Yunbok said softly. "How else can you look forward after today? She will not want that."

"You are right," Heo Bae wondered how old his companion was for it seemed to him he had undergone as much tribulations. "I hope to have done so," he rubbed at his chest and took a deep breath. For some reason, he felt better. Perhaps he had kept it within too long, having no one he could talk to on the matter.

"Because you have found a partner?"

"How did you know?" he was puzzled for he did not speak of his affections.

"You forget, sir, that Iseul is a friend of ours and a former colleague of hers," Yunbok said easily.

"Ah, I do forget the chatter of women. Now that you have reminded me, I think I should reconsider," laughed Heo Bae.

"A warm hearth is something to look forward to, sir."

"I suppose you right. I've been coming home to strange empty hearths."

"Will there be any problems?"

"Problems?" Heo Bae repeated blankly before he realised what Yunbok was referring to. How much did it cost to free a gisaeng not of the first grade? Mentally, he totalled up what he had. It should be enough, he hoped. The sounds of voices caught their attention and a maid came scurrying by with a chorong she nearly dropped in fright when she came upon them unexpectedly.

"I'm afraid I have to take my leave, sir. I have to return to the village seodang with master Han," Yunbok got to his feet. "They will be staying here until the remaining issue is settled. Perhaps we can continue the discussion later," he bowed, spoke briefly to the maid who was hovering uncertainly before making his way to his room, leaving Heo Bae to gaze after him in reverie.

He wondered that he was so candid to this young spouse of Sojo's. Perhaps by speaking so to him, he was in a way, reaching out to her. He had been loathed to shatter what precious regard she had for Ju-seok but he had no choice. If the siblings were to have a solid foundation to their newfound kinship, only the truth would ensure it. Would they reach an accord that day? He rose to his feet with determination. He would try his utmost to see that they do.

* * *

When the constables came for Ghim, he was prepared. How could he not be when he had to send those men? It was unfortunate that the fool had ended up injured. Could he not have gone quietly with the men? They were only to make sure he left Uiryeong, for the north but no, the idiot had to resist and the situation had spun out of control, according to those who had escaped. Not surprisingly, they were the two underlings he had, not the hired thugs. Preserving their hides had been their first priority. How he had shouted at them for resorting to weapons. Did they not have intelligence to try on another day? He muttered to himself as he walked along the street with the constables, totally forgetting that he himself had adamantly demanded that they made sure Chung was out of town by sunset. Fools, all of them. If Chung complained about him, he was ready to answer, to both the local magistrate and their mutual superiors.

As he expected when he arrived at the seohwadang, the reception was frosty. He effaced himself humbly, putting much remorse in his words as he confessed to employing thugs. They were meant to frighten Chung, not hurt him, he explained and did not try to put the blame on the men. Better to shoulder and be regretful for he knew the magistrate would come down heavily on him should he try otherwise. Having observed and read the report on this appointed official to Uiryeong, he thought he knew the man. It was too bad he could not be gotten rid of for the moment but there would other opportunities to discredit him.

How delighted he had been when he heard of the plan to place an official under their sway in Uiryeong. It mattered not to him that she thought the town required more investigation in light of that first incident. After much pursuit of rumors through the years that produced no results, it was the most sensible thing to do. That there would be ample rewards and better prospects with an official who would cooperate with him was of immense interest to him. Yes, if his future endeavors come to pass, there was much to look forward to.

He did not protest when the magistrate ordered his confinement pending further investigations. Chung himself would have to be present, of which he was not able to at the moment, to answer questions so it would be a few days before he would be released. His punishment would be light. Of that, he was certain so he went off quietly with the constables to the jail cells.

* * *

**Han Residence**

The boys murmured quietly among themselves as they marched wooden toys around the porch. Now and then, one of them would look up and peered into the daecheong, hoping to get some clue of what the group could be discussing about so solemnly. Would it bring about much changes? P'ado tried to figure out how his world would be different now that he had a oisamchon and a immo. Would they come to live with omoni and aboji? If they did, where would they sleep? Oisamchon with him and immo in the daecheong? Or would it be aboji, oisamchon and he in a room, omoni and immo in the other. Or would it be oisamchon staying at ajoshi's house? At least omoni would have more help with the chores.

Heo Bae watched the three siblings, searching for clues of their feelings as they each read the paper he had presented. Not that he would get much, for their expressions and words were guarded. The aloofness between the two sisters was clear. Soo-jin would be too upset and insecured to reach out. Jeong-hyang was most likely too unsettled with her anger. The chances of Dong-min taking the first step was even poorer. A pity. A dilemma hard to resolve. Soo-jin returned the paper to him.

"I will not accept it," Jeong-hyang said immediately before he could say anything. The other two remained silent. "It should go to his heir."

"Sojo, this is his last wish," he said. "He did not think I would succeed but still, he exhorted me to make sure it is given to you."

"Ajoshi, I do not care for the money. I know what it is he wished with this bestowment but it is of material worth."

"How can you say that?" Dong-min found he could not give voice to her entitlement. "Aboji has scrimped and gone through so much effort, there should be appreciation for his toil."

"He did not do it just for me. Given that I am a daughter, even if one-third is officially sanctioned, still, all should go to the son," she pushed on as Dong-mi was about to speak. "This one-third is unfair as it is, he did not consider the youngest."

"Their mother beqeathed whatever she has to Jinya," put in Heo Bae. "I do not think she would want a share," he looked at Soo-jin who shook her head.

"Then there is no need for further discussion, ajoshi, everything that he has will go to the son," Jeong-hyang said firmly, indicating clearly that she would not change her mind.

"Will you not forgive him?" Heo Bae sighed. "I know it is too soon to ask it of you but please, will you not reconsider?"

There was no reply as she cast her gaze on the floor. Such a stubborn mien. It reminded him of a much younger face, stubbornly driven to make the best grasshopper after numerous failures. To labour on the issue was perhaps pointless and yet he felt he should not let it go. It would make conciliation that much harder among the siblings. Dong-min had no expression on his face but his tensed shoulders gave him away; he would prefer Jeong-hyang to take the one-third. As compensation for his mother's part in the breakup of the family? For the injustice done to his elder sister? A frank dialogue was needed. If they would not start, he would have to try to ignite it for them.

"If that is what you wish, Sojo, I will respect it. I do not think he harbored any illusions himself but he wanted to try. I am his voice to you, Sojo, for he can no longer speak."

"What is there to say?!" she took a deep breath to control her tears. "His gift is the sum of his words."

How was he to begin? Heo Bae fretted for a long moment as the rest waited before it came to him. Ju-seok's life, what did she know of it? What did she understand of her father? Nothing. It was all vague memories and suppositions of a child. Yes, he should start with that.

"There was not much he had or even any of us," he said softly. "Life was hard but there was food on the tables every day. A home to come back to, enough to clothe ourselves and a little for other comforts. What else is there to ask for? Except for the gift of profound affection. This he discovered with Hee-jin, as surely you have found it with master Seo," he saw his point struck home. How could she not empathise with that feeling? As brief as his time was with them, he had already discerned their bond, the signs were all there.

"His happiness knew no bounds when you were born," he continued. "There was nothing more he could ask for but the heavens had seen fit to take away the light of his life. How could he live? He did not want to. He tried to kill himself after the funeral but we stopped him. How did he live? Not because of us, it was because of you, Sojo. He fought to live, you are all that remained of Hee-jin. It was an uneven battle for grief, wine and words did him in. In a moment of folly, in his drunken torment, he committed himself to a decision he could not change, nor take back. It was the second knife in his heart he had to live with, gouged himself with as he worked to gather the money. For he was determined, to try to free you one day. No matter how long it took."

"Is that why he took on extra jobs during winter?" Dong-min recalled the late nights his father kept, how wearied he had looked but had continued to slog on the next day.

"Any jobs he could find, whither it was to clean, collect or gather. Nothing was beneath him."

"I used to wait up for him because omoni wouldn't," there was a faraway look in Dong-min's eyes as he recalled those nights.

"I know," Heo Bae nodded. "You prepared hot water for him, warmed up his food and tried to ease his aches. You are a good son," he saw Dong-min's surprise. "I was worried and never understood why he drove himself so harshly. After he married Su-yeo, he stopped drinking. It was a relief to us but then his actions became incomprehensible for he denied himself almost of even the most common essentials. He was excessively cruel to himself and we were at a lost. I went to talk to him one night." Dong-min remembered he had stood outside and listened to their conversation. "He never said anything when I tried to advise against his overburdening himself. I took to waiting for him outside the village to make sure he came home."

"He never said much, only that I should keep away from wine for it was the worst nepenthe to seek. That one should have the courage to bear the pain of the lance, however deep it cuts, it will eventually heal if one faced the agony. To do otherwise is to suffer endlessly, for the wound will never heal." For the first time, Dong-min finally made sense out of his father's ineffable depressions that hovered over him perpetually. Unable to bear the memories, he turned to look out into the garden where it seemed the denuded flora seemed to reflect his dispirited mood.

"The fights omoni had with him was over money, wasn't it?" Soo-jin said tremulously. "She did not receive any of what he earned in winter." At that reminder, Dong-min turned to look at Soo-jin. The nights they had huddled in a corner, watching the adults exchanged angry words. His mother had hit his father many times but he had never struck back. There was ever that stubborn look in his eyes in his continual refusal to accede to her demands.

"She was angry for he was refusing to give what she considered was the share for the family. It was a matter she often brought up to us, to vent her spleen," Heo Bae thought of the cruelty of her harsh words, shocking everyone in the troupe. It was anger in having her desires thwarted, the life she envisioned perhaps did not turn out as she envisaged.

"Wouldn't she suspect what aboji wanted to do?" Soo-jin said tentatively. "I mean, she would be asking herself why aboji was behaving in such a way."

"That is true, she was the only one who knew what he had done. Ju-seok himself said she had taunted him that he would fail, he would see the end of himself before he ever set eyes on Sojo again," Heo Bae was sorry he had to expose the ugly side of Su-yeo but as children, they had already witnessed her covetousness. "Unfortunately, her words came true." Silence fell as they contemplated Ju-seok's miseries.

"Nunim," Dong-min saw that Jeong-hyang was crying, he felt like howling himself. "Please, accept what aboji wished you to have."

"Onni, it was the only thing he could do for you. Please," added Soo-jin, wiping her own tears away.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of muted weeping. Lost in the turmoil of her emotions, Jeong-hyang did not realise P'ado was trying to comfort her until he clasped her around the waist. She held on to him as if he was a lifeline.

"Omma, will you not accept haraboji's offering?" he said, having crept in the moment he saw Jeong-hyang's unhappiness and heard most of the conversation. "He's sorry, isn't he?" he continued when she did not reply. "He worked very hard because he wanted to show you he's sorry for what he had done. Omma, what would you say if he were here before you?"

Unnoticed by the group in the daecheong, someone called at the gates. A servant hurried to opened them. It was young master Han and master Seo he saw and was surprised to see them holding packs. A woman in a jangot was standing behind them as similarly loaded. They stopped at the courtyard. Yunbok discerned there was a minor commotion at the daecheong and suggested they wait elsewhere. Young-joon was in agreement after a glance and had all the packs moved to the guest quarters of the anbang.

"You're not going to...," he gestured to the daecheong.

"No, they must resolve it among themselves," said Yunbok. "Shall we go to the garden?" he said.

"What kind of a gentleman are you? Asking a lady to suffer the chill of winter," scolded Young-joon humorously.

"Winter? Tsk, brother Han, you're out of season," returned Yunbok, flicking a yellow gold leaf he plucked from the branch of a tree they passed at Young-joon. "I don't have to invite you for Chuseok then."

"Aigoo, do you have to carry out the pointing of my errors so literally?!" lamented Young-joon, snapping opened his jwilbuchae so that the poem written by Yunbok stared at him in the face.

"All the more reason to do so or I will have failed in my duty," Yunbok jabbed at the jwilbuchae with a finger.

The woman said nothing but listened to their bickering with amusement while trying to think of some way to express her gratitude. Foremost on her mind however was the fear that she had acted out of presumption in accompanying them back to the Han residence. If she made an error, she must prepare herself for disappointment. It would mean she must set in motion the plan she had made for herself, early as it was. Did she have enough? Come to the worse, she could ask master Han for aid. He would not refuse her, she knew. Or she could even apply to Jeong-hyang and master Seo.

Various plans came and went as she followed the two about the garden for it was too cold to sit at the pavilion with no mats and brazier prepared. Turned and turned about they went, the conversation bouncing about erratically for the two were curious about what was happening at the daecheong. Presently, they saw Heo Bae standing at the porch but the other three, including P'ado remained where they were. Hastily, Yunbok gestured to her and she moved partially behind a tree. Waving their arms to catch his attention, they beckoned, making sure they were blocking the woman from Heo Bae's  
sight.

"How is it going?" asked Yunbok when Heo Bae reached them, puzzled at their insistence he should go to them.

"They are talking," Heo Bae wondered why they were standing so stiffly and strangely. "P'ado was a big help."

"That is good news!" enthused Young-joon. "A celebration is called for. I'll have a feast prepared."

"Indeed. We thought we should prepare a gift for you as a token of our appreciation. Please accept it," said Yunbok, nudging Young-joon.

Simultaneously, they moved to either side to reveal the woman standing behind them. Although startled at first, the smile and the happiness that lit the older man's eyes were all there was hoped for.

* * *

**Korean Words**

_hyeongni - legal clerk who processed legal suits, take part in trials, when necessary acconpany plaintiff to scene of crime as investigative officer_

_injeong - curfew bell_

**Korean Poems**

_Mountains on four sides_  
_And enfold by streams_  
_There stand the dwelling of a scholar_  
_On a single acre of land_  
_Facing the sun's rays,_  
_Opening on a southern exposure,_  
_It is by nanme "Gloomless Eaves."_  
_Lutes and books on the left_  
_And chessmen on the right._  
_I am at leisure whenver I please._  
_In pleasure, I forget my gloom!_  
_How about that? - Chong Kug-in (14? - 14?)_


	14. Chapter 14

**Baengno 1787 (15th)**

Saved for faint hootings, all was silent in the darkness as the glistening face of the moon smiled winsomely to brighten the dark land. In the distant, a continuous reverberation brought about a gentle stirring. The rooster lifted its head from the haven of its feathers, working its throat and beak. Its crow merged with those sounding from the village below. Eyes fluttered open. Another loud crow. Yawning, she nudged the head next to hers.

"Wake up."

"Hmmmphhh," came the mumble.

The cold would wake him but it was so difficult to leave the warmth herself. Another nudge produced no result. Reluctantly, she sat up, shivering in the slight chill and pulled the quilt away which produced an automatic curl from him. Rubbing her eyes, she groped for the tunggyong and lit it. Turning back to him, she prodded at his shoulder. There was much to do and many hands would be appreciated.

"Wake up, wake up," she chanted into his ear, shaking him.

"It can't be morning already," he turned over, finally opening his eyes. "It's cold!"

"Get up and move about, that'll warm you up," she evaded his hands when he made to hug her. "Wake P'ado," she reached for her jacket and chima.

"Such a cold heart," he sighed as more shrill crows pierced the air. A deep yawn almost split his face and he shook the boy next to him. Getting to his feet, he folded away the bedding and quilt she threw to him as P'ado bumbled about with the same task. Shaking himself as he yawned again, he followed her to the kitchen, the boy trailing after, mimicking his motions. The fire was stoked up and once the water boiled, they took it in turns to wash up after which they changed into new clothes. The large pot of songpyeon made the night before was set to steam with pine needles. Rice was washed and toranguk prepared. The kitchen began to fill with bustle and noise when Hyeja and Soo-jin came in. With so many hands, the tasks went faster. Assorted aroma, conversation and daylight began to permeate everywhere.

The doors of the daecheong were opened, the byeongpung unfolded across the room and the low table brought in. Fresh apples, pears, chestnuts, persimmons, dates were set out and arranged on the table. With Suk-kwon, Yunbok went to check on the new wine distilling behind the house next to the jangdokdae. The amount of liquor in the pot was graitfying. Taking a sniff, Suk-kwon nodded in approval and measured out a bottle for the offering.

Out front in the courtyard, Dong-min and Heo Bae sat chatting casually as they bound stalks of rice, sorghum, millet, barley and other grains. It had been years since they had participated fully in the festival and it reminded them of home. It was something to look forward to the next year when they would be settled near Anseong. The stalks were hung atop the door frame of the daecheong of both houses.

In the kitchen, the women hurried with the cooking. The table in the daecheong was rapidly filling with other dishes: songpyeon, toranguk, sirutteok, chicken and wine. When all was ready, everyone gathered to perform the charye. Once it was over, the food was shared out. The morning passed amidst much enthusiasm when Chung-su and his brothers came by with their familes. The paper mill buzzed with energy an dwarm ambience filled with laughter and cheerful chatter. More villagers dropped by, on their way to do seongmyo. Presently, the tables and dishes were cleared away and they set off to the hills to Min-soo's tomb.

With the grave tidied up on Chilseok, the seongmyo was carried out smoothly. They spend a little time sightseeing for Dong-min and Heo Bae were interested to have a look of the region. With Suk-kwon playing the role of guide in pointing out the interesting landmarks as they went along, the rest followed at their own pace.

"You are quiet today," Yunbok said to the boy trotting beside him, for P'ado had a pensive look.

"Aboji. Did not ... omonim say anything about abonim?"

"I'm sorry, P'adoa, she was too weak to say anything further." Yunbok understood at once that the boy was concerned about his own father. Having witnessed for himself the conciliation of lost family, how could he not hope for the same?

"Aboji, do you think abonim might have ..," P'ado hesitated, not certain how to voice his fears. Had his real father died? Was that why his mother was wandering around?

"Do not think of the worst when you know not what had happened," said Yunbok, crouching down so he could see the boy clearly. "Are you afraid he did not want you or omonim?"

The boy bowed his head in silence, afraid if he should say it aloud, it would be true.

"What can you tell me of the stories we shared every night?"

"The stories?" the boy frowned, trying to discern Yunbok's question. "The stories teach us how to behave? To teach us right from wrong?"

"Anything else?"

"There are good and bad people, some are brave, others are cowards. Poor and rich, weak and powerful," the boy chanted.

"Very good, anything else you can think of?" Yunbok smiled when the boy shook his head. "The people in the stories, are they all the same? They're not. Every one of them has a different tale, a different way of seeing things around them. Abonim's story will not be the same as omoni's."

"Then...," P'ado said hopefully.

"There is one thing that is the same, P'adoa. The love that fathers give to their children," Yunbok said earnestly. "Abonim loves you, you can be sure of that. And like omoni's aboji, he will be looking for you, he will never give up."

"He will really look for me?" Hope warred with disbelief.

"Yes, he will. When he finally finds you. he will tell you why he was not with you and omonim years ago. And you will listen, won't you? With a open heart."

"What if he never finds me?"

"Then I guess you're stuck with omoni and aboji. Are you not happy with us?"

"I want no other!" the boy declared, flinging his arms around Yunbok.

"Then it's settled, no?" Yunbok gently pulled away the boy's arms from around his neck. "Come on, we'll miss all the fun at the jangsi."

They hurried to catch up to the rest, already distant down the hills. Beneath the high blue sky, loud and joyous were the voices and music that rang out as people from the villages came together to celebrate Chuseok. Ssireum competitors fought harder in an effort to win the prize of an ox put up on this special day. Matches were intensed and unpredictable. As equally fervent were the baduk and janggi competitions, for the prizes were as enticing. Long was the queue to collect winnings of the weaving competition. The delight from Suk-kwon and the Joon brothers were such that Yunbok thought they were too boisterous. Having pitched in a bet and won, Dong-min promised P'ado a treat. Food and drink was readily available, courtesy of the team that lost in the weaving competition. Two different troupes entertained the crowd at opposite ends of the jangsi.

Heo Bae was pleased to note that his group was giving their best. How annoyed he had been to learn the entire group had gone to town that day, leaving Soo-jin alone at the lodge. It was not entirely their fault however for her illness ws feigned and she had encouraged the whole group to go. The better that no one saw what she was about. It was fortunate nothing untoward had happened. But why was he thinking about it? It was all over, he should look forward. He took a deep breath, glancing at the faces of his companions enjoying the performances and his smile turned warmer at Hyeja beside him.

Fresh breeze blew readily, enlivening the air in the late afternoon as the crowd heaved enthusiastically for the juldarigi event. Shouts and the clashing of gongs almost deafened everyone. As night fell, torches, chorong and tungnong were lit and most people sat about enjoying dinners and the talchum that had been ongoing for the whole day. When the moon showed her face, it was scrutinised for long moments. Was it reddish? It would mean drought, most feared by farmers. Was it too bright white? Ah, then there would special heavy rainfall during the rainy season.

Comments flew all around and there was a general sigh of relief. The moon was neither red nor too bright. In celebration of the new moon, the women came together for the ganggangsullae, with the singer standing in the center starting the dance which began to go faster and faster, coming apart at times to weave the circle again and the dance continued until late into the night which gradually wound down into slumbering silence as the crowds dispersed for home.

All was quiet at the paper mill. Not ready for rest, the two sat at their favourite spot at the porch, gazing into the sky.

"A good year." There was no answer, he fluttered his fingers before her face. "Sleeping already?"

"Almost, the dance wore me out," she murmured. "Was there anything of note? I saw master Park talking to you."

"Chung has gone north," he said almost inaudibly near her ear. "And Ghim is stuck in prison with no idea that bigger trouble is heading his way. He's out of the way until the next one comes along."

"I'm still not sure Chung can be trusted. He can easily play us for fools," she muttered.

"Just as we trust old master Han? Didn't he come here that night to play that rigmarole with the two of you?" he drew aside a strand of her hair that was tickling his face and tucked it behind her ear.

"Ooohh ... I do so not like to be tested so," she made a face at that reminder. "He could have just tell us what was really going on."

"He was testing Iseul, not you," he chuckled. "Returning to your previous statement, Chung does not know who I really am. That run in we had was incidental. For all he knows, I'm just one of old master Han's underlings."

"That's g...," a yawn caught her in mid-sentence.

"Definitely, you are tired," he laughed. "All that talking these few days must be really exhaustive."

"Isn't that what is expected of us?" she sighed.

"There're still months yet to spring, what's the hurry?"

"It's curiosity. Surely Dong-min asked you alot of questions?"

"He's as bad as P'ado," lamented Yunbok. "I had to turn elderly on him to evade some of his questions."

"That's right, put your age to good use. Ow!" she elbowed him when he pinched her.

"Aigoo, I should have put on extra jackets," he rubbed his stomach. "I hope that makes you feel better."

"Not by much," his warmth was a assuring support to her. "So much regrets, so much pain, it seems impossible to recover from them."

"We have gone through worse and we will again. That is how life is," he embraced her encouragingly. "We will visit him one day and you can bare your heart. For now, treasure this time with your brother and sister."

"I still find it hard to believe I have siblings," she plucked his fingers absentmindedly. "I've always wanted a sister to play with and a brother to look after me."

"There's nothing like family," he agreed. "With your father absent most of the time, it's natural to desire siblings."

"Yes," she nodded. "I'm really glad ajoshi Heo is finally going to settle down. We must make his wedding as grand as possible."

"Certainly, we must," he said, pleased that Heo Bae wanted to hold the ceremony before they left. The older man's intention to ease her need to make up for his sacrifices was transparent but welcomed. "That reminds me, I informed Yoo Jung of our decision regards the betrothal proposal."

"How did he receive it?"

"He is disappointed of course but I pointed out the possibility of P'ado's relatives come a calling or his probable desire to seek them. In which case, it would not be wise of me to arrange any marriage for him," he felt her startlement.

"I thought we agreed that he is to have the freedom of choice?"

"That too but you know he might just want to go look for his bloodkin. We have no idea who they truly are. If he finds them, they might have plans for him."

"You're too scrupulous," she scolded mildly, feeling that they themselves had the right to decide for P'ado, not some strangers the boy would not know despite their being family. "But we're over reaching ourselves, don't you think?"

"Are we? What if his father should turn up one day or if P'ado wants to look for him?" he felt her stilled. "When I talked to him after the seongmyo, there was fear in him. That the reason Min-soo was wandering out there was abandonment."

"I'm not surprised he would feel that way," she sighed as a streak of pain surfaced. "I know how he feels."

"I told him his father will look for him, that he will eventually find him and when he does, he will listen to what his father has to say," he held her tightly. "Just as your father would have done, dear heart but was held back by the need to work for your freedom." For a long moment, there was only soft weeping. "Will... will he really turn up for P'ado? What will we do if he does?" she hiccuped.

"We will only know once he does. Until then," he wiped her tears away. "Let's think of the road ahead of us, shall we?"

_Together 'round the eaves we go_  
_The blossoms of the plum do laugh_  
_Upward floats a vague perfume; moonlight glids the dusk._  
_What's more, it's cold, what is the white snow doing here?_  
_Perhaps it is quite jealous in the warm of spring_  
_Found in the bridal suite._

"Now you made me hanker ever for spring," she complained before looking up into the sky and singing softly.

_Though you be small, you float on high,_  
_Making all the world bright._  
_Is there any other who can match your shining light_  
_In the middle of the night?_  
_Though you look at me, you do no speak a word,_  
_But you are my friend, it seems._

"And what am I?" he said.

"You know what you are."

* * *

**Unknown Location**

The hut was small and cramped, filled with heavy snores and the heat of several unwashed bodies. Metal slithered a little way across the floor as a pair of legs shifted. A hand reached out to tilt the opened window wider. Another moon, another month. As surely as the sun and the moon moved, the days would come and go. If only they would go faster. Just another twelve months to go. Another twelve. Longing rose in him as he gazed at the moon and he squashed it ruthlessly. Twelve. Soon, he would be free to walk where he would. Patience. Home, he would be home soon. They would be waiting for him. Twelve months.

_The heavens will be on my side. Min-soo, keep yourself safe. Keep our son safe. I will be home soon._

* * *

**Korean Words**

_jangdokdae - cluster of earthenware jars where various sauces are stored_

_songpyeon - half moon rice cakes stuffed with different ingredients of choice: soybeans, cowpeas, chestnuts, jujubes, bean powder, sesame and honey_

**Korean Poems**

_Together 'round the eaves we go_  
_The blossoms of the plum do laugh_  
_Upward floats a vague perfume; moonlight glids the dusk._  
_What's more, it's cold, what is the white snow doing here?_  
_Perhaps it is quite jealous in the warm of spring_  
_Found in the bridal suite. - Yi Chong-bo (1693 - 1766)_

_Though you be small, you float on high,_  
_Making all the world bright._  
_Is there any other who can match your shining light_  
_In the middle of the night?_  
_Though you look at me, you do no speak a word,_  
_But you are my friend, it seems. - Yun Seon-do (1587–1671)_


End file.
